


Worse Than I Seem

by CarolandDaryl



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Abduction, Angst, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Deviates from Canon (slightly), Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Graphic Description, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Panic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Self-Harm, Slow Build, Spoilers, Survivor Guilt, Torture, Trauma, abusive minerva
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:07:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 73,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27012508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolandDaryl/pseuds/CarolandDaryl
Summary: Crossover Fandom - The Walking Dead Show and Telltale's The Walking Dead Game.Carol is trying to pull herself back together when Alexandria discovers the existence of another dangerous group, The Delta.  With the help of Clementine and Violet from 'Ericson's Boarding School for Troubled Youth', Carol and Daryl embark on an ambitious rescue and destroy mission that may have dangerous repercussions.
Relationships: Clementine & Violet (Walking Dead: Done Running), Clementine/Violet (Walking Dead: Done Running), Daryl Dixon & Carol Peletier, Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier
Comments: 75
Kudos: 70





	1. A New Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is my very first published fanfiction! I hope you enjoy it. I'll be releasing new chapters bimonthly. I've been a huge fan of The Walking Dead for years, and this past year - during quarantine - I finally played Telltale Games The Walking Dead and I fell in love with the characters. I wanted to bring my two favorite worlds together. Please, comments welcome!
> 
> The story begins at the end of season nine from the show. From the game, it takes off at season four, episode 2: 'Suffer the Children', just before The Delta attacks the school.
> 
> The title of the story is taken from the Ani Difranco song, "Grey."

Life on _The Turandot_ wasn’t easy, but that was part of the appeal for Carol. As she had no previous experience on a boat before, she was learning every single day. The grueling days at sea facing the elements directed her thoughts to the tasks at hand, of which there were many. 

The Potomac river deposited them straight into the Atlantic, and while they mostly dabbled by the coast, the immensity of the ocean seemed to dwarf their vessel and their very existence. The continuous physical toil on the boat energized and distracted her. With the endless horizon stretching out before her, her body sensed the raw energy of the earth and perceived her own existence as a grain of sand on a distant shore. Carol rarely gave those feelings much thought – usually, she let herself experience them.

Sometimes she worked herself raw enough to slip into a dreamless slumber. More often, though, she would wake up in a panic - heart pounding, wrapped in damp blankets. There were moments of frantic confusion as she slowly oriented herself back to wakefulness. Exhaustion wasn’t always enough to allow her any significant sleep. On those frequent nights, she stared at the ceiling above her, feeling every rock and sway of the ship around her. 

They were headed to Oceanside tomorrow. Their harvest of spot, cleaned and corned, is one of their largest yet. As Carol ruminated, she felt the many scrapes and lacerations on her hands burning with the sea salt she had rubbed into the filleted fish. While they wouldn’t keep forever, this process would give _The Turandot_ enough time to get their catch to shore so that the fish could be properly preserved at Oceanside. 

‘Corning’ was one of the many valuable pieces of knowledge that Georgie included in her book, ‘A Key to the Future’. When Maggie had met Georgie, Carol had judged her reckless. Maggie’s choice had led to an enhanced quality of life for all the communities - the primitive technologies described in that book were a boon. She had taken the chance, and even Carol wouldn’t deny that it paid off enormously. 

Thinking about Maggie brought a heaviness to her chest and a tightness in her stomach. She thought about all those she lost and all those she drove away - her family that still sought to connect, despite her arm’s distance.

While the berth was pitch dark, her eyes were adjusted to the lack of illumination. Sleep was hopeless, so she pulled on her thick jacket and made her way through the main cabin up to the deck of the ship. 

Carol drew in a quick breath. The air was sharp, colder than she would expect for early September. She perched close to the bow of the boat, wrapped her arms around herself and looked out at the vast ocean around her. 

The waning moon cast a diffuse, pale light below it. The stars above shined bright and clear. Identifying stars, she visualized the constellations of Scorpius and Sagittarius; the brilliant beacons of Jupiter and Saturn were escorting them all into winter. 

Carol had never paid much attention to the night sky before. She was too busy minding her feet while she tiptoed around Ed, and later too frightened and focused after the world fell apart. Now, she had frequent opportunity to spend hours at night, just staring - soaking in the universe’s majesty. It helped free the phantoms from her mind.

The sheer enormity of the universe dwarfed her very existence and all that she found important. While this might have a crippling effect on some, Carol found tremendous release from the burden of the world. The night sky and the boundless ocean erased, if merely for a few moments, her past and her future. She savored those feelings. They never lasted, but they were a solace that she seldom had opportunity in experiencing. It made tomorrow seem possible.

Though the horizon was only just beginning to grow light, Carol was wide awake - clear. She let herself sit a while longer as she enjoyed the ocean rock her back and forth.

**** 

Carol helped tie off the boat to dock. Cloud cover fully came in, the day was grey and the wind brisk. She straightened while a flurry of activity erupted all around her. The crew – four women from Oceanside and a couple of youthful, eager men from Hilltop - worked efficiently together to unload their catch. 

As she scanned the deck, her gaze first fell to Daryl as he walked up to the berth with a hint of a smile in his eyes. He was wearing long sleeves under his ragged old vest, his shoulder length hair hung in strings around his face, scruff on his jaw. She softened instantly, her heart expanding at the sight of him. A little way behind Daryl, she spotted Ezekiel, looking hesitant. A dull ache twisted in her chest; she wasn’t ready to see him. Daryl raised an eyebrow as he observed the minute changes of expression on her face. 

They embraced and the familiar solid planes of his back comforted her as they held each other. He smelled of sweat and dirt and something altogether unique to Carol that she hadn’t realized she had missed so much. It had been a long time – months - since they had last seen each other. She broke the hug and held him at arms-length, smiling.

“How are you?” she asked.

Daryl shrugged while giving her the once over. “You look good,” he said.

Carol chuckled. “You’re joking. I can’t tell you the last time I had the chance to clean myself off. Can’t even imagine the smell…”

Daryl shrugged again. “Nah… ain’t that bad.” There was a practically imperceptible little upturn at the corner of his mouth. She gave him an exaggerated scowl. 

“You always were a terrible liar.” She glanced past him and her tone sobered. “What’s he doing here?” 

Daryl’s own smile faded. “Look… he don’t really know what he’s doin’, now the Kingdom’s gone... now he’s lost you.”

Carol scoffed. A mix of emotions churned in her stomach. “I was gone long before I left. He was just too caught up in his dream to see it.”

The seagulls screeched around them. The capable Oceanside women already finished hauling their catch of spot out of the boat. People from Hillside and Alexandria worked together to load the fish onto carts and wagons, their horses restless in the presence of the raucous birds. Carol watched as Ezekiel finally approached her; Daryl ducked his head and ambled over to the boat. 

Ezekiel cleared his throat when he stopped in front of her. He still wore The Kingdom armor, the fabric running thin across the protective plastic. His long, black coat was frayed and worn. His grey dreadlocks were tied at the nape of his neck, his beard neatly trimmed. There was a weariness in the set of his shoulders and in the way his arms hung at his sides. 

“Why’re you here?” She didn’t mean for the words to come out as sharp as they did. Ezekiel flinched, scanned her face. She was sure that he didn’t find what he was looking for. 

“I wanted to… to see you… to talk…” he said. 

Carol shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about,” she replied. He continued searching her face, desperately looking for a tether. 

“Are you happy? I can’t imagine that you don’t miss Alexandria,” he began. 

Carol’s irritation bristled. “Of course, I miss it. But I couldn’t be there for a lot of reasons...” she ran a hand through her closely cropped hair, “I can’t be what you need, Ezekiel,” she said softly.

His eyes were pleading. “I’m lost. I don’t know what I’m doing any longer. With the fall of The Kingdom, with Henry… I thought I could get through it all if only my Queen were at my – “

“Don’t call me that.”

Ezekiel’s pained eyes met hers. He took in her set shoulders, her posture, and the hope in his eyes visibly deflated. She felt herself regretting her tone and softened. She reached out to his arm, coaxed him to look at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you don’t understand, but I’ve had to be here. We’ve lost so much. I couldn’t pretend that anything was ever going to be okay again. I couldn’t… pretend that I could be happy.” 

He held her eyes with his for some time. The grief she saw there tightened the ache in her chest. His gaze drifted over her shoulder and when she followed it, she saw Daryl talking with Rachel. “You know he has nothing to do with this,” Carol said. Ezekiel flinched at her words. He chuckled without humor. 

“Do I? I couldn’t help but see that, when everything fell, when we were facing our darkest foe, that you turned from me and reached towards your friend…”

“Then you’re blind.” She pulled her hand away. “Just go. I don’t want to do this.”

She turned her back on him and walked towards the ship.

Her own heart ached with the memories of how happy they were together in The Kingdom, memories of the love they had shared there. She hadn’t truly believed that she deserved to be happy, or that what they had together was even real. Her resentment towards Ezekiel increased. His presence brought up all the pain she had been working so hard to move away from.

****

“You could come back.”

The camp they made was close to the shore, just past the tree line. This gave everyone line of sight in case the noise of the water drew the dead. About twenty-five people huddled around a handful of campfires, stoking the fuel, sharing a meal and murmured conversation. Daryl and Carol were gathered around a fire with Rachel and a couple of women from Oceanside. Carol took another sip of soup before replying. 

“I know. Sometimes I even convince myself that I want to.” She paused and looked over the campsite. The flickering fires cast shadows and illuminated weary faces. She spotted Ezekiel sitting near some people from Alexandria, gazing at the fire, his own meal forgotten in his hands. “Then I’m not so sure I can face it again.” She turned to Daryl; his gaze was set to hers. “I’m scared I’ll never be alright.”

He held her gaze a little longer, chewing on his lip. He swung his head down to look at his hands, grunted an acknowledgment. 

“Yeah. Ah know,” he said, turning his gaze to hers. “But ya gotta keep tryin’.” Carol’s throat constricted. She let out a deep breath and tore her eyes away from his.

“If I can even get to sleep,” she began, “sometimes I’ll wake up in the night and forget, just for a moment, everything that’s happened. Everything I’ve done. I don’t know, maybe it’s the movement of the boat, or just being so exhausted every day. But then I blink and it all comes rushing back, and I’m scared and angry and so far away from the person I want to be.”

Sniffing, she shifted her weight and reached for her water canteen. She had a sip, offered it to Daryl, who shook his head. “I seek those moments,” she continued. “I work myself harder and harder during the day hoping to forget, even just for that moment.” Daryl picked up his knife and idly drew circles on the ground by his feet, scraping the rocks and sand. He turned his face to her and held her gaze. 

“That ain’t real,” he said, his voice low.

Carol gave him a faint smile. “No… it’s not.” Her eyes held his. “But it’s all I have.”

His gaze softened, and he glanced down at his hands, fidgeting with his knife. The murmur of their camp mates and the soft crackle of the fire filled their silence. As Carol’s thoughts drifted out to the sea beyond, she heard Daryl shift slightly beside her. 

“That ain’t all ya got,” he murmured. Carol softened. She smiled and hoped he couldn’t read how uncertain she was. She sensed he wanted to reach out to her, but he continued to play with the knife by his feet. Or maybe she was the one yearning for the touch. 

Carol turned her gaze into the fire, absorbed herself in the movement of the flames. The crackle of the embers and low conversations around her mingled with the steady rush of the shore. Despite it all, she cherished these moments with him by her side. His easy companionship was something she had missed, and she was reminded again of how well he really knew her. It gave her pause, she was uncertain she ready for the responsibility of living up to his observation. Without another word, she stood up, placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a light squeeze, before walking to her tent.

Daryl didn’t move. He just kept staring into the fire.

****

Dawn broke without incident. Carol could only get a couple of fitful hours of sleep; getting rest was virtually hopeless for her on shore. She was outside her tent early and found that Daryl had been busy. Several small rodents were strung up around his tent, and he was perched on a rock cleaning one. 

She stretched and splashed some water on her face. The morning was crisp; the wind sliced through the material of her jacket. Oceanside were already coaxing flames out of kindling. All around her, the camp began to wake up. 

She made her way to Daryl, nodding hello to familiar faces as she passed them. 

“Morning, sunshine,” she said, with a quirk of her lips. He glanced up at her with a crooked smile on his face. Grunting a response, he shifted his attention back to the squirrel he was cleaning. She sat down next to him and watched him. Strong hands moved with long, practiced precision. Scars slashed across his knuckles, the color fading into the dark tan he constantly seemed to have. She wasn’t the only one that carried demons with her. 

Watching him work made up her mind. “I want to come back with you,” she said. He paused, looked her in the eyes. It always felt like he could see right through her. He seemed satisfied by what he saw. 

“A‘right.” 

****

The ride to Alexandria was exhilarating. Her hands securely gripped Daryl’s sides as Carol let the rumble of the motorcycle ease the tension she was carrying in her muscles. The scenery whipped past them, the growl of the bike overwhelming her senses, and for a while, Carol forgot everything - forgot where they came from and where they were going. Her mind was blessedly clear and light. She leaned in closer to Daryl. 

“Let’s go faster,” she said. He never took his eyes from the trail, but she saw the corner of his lips turn up in a smile.

“Hold on.” She wrapped her arms around his stomach. As he shifted into a higher gear, she felt a sudden and not unwelcome flush of happiness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend of mine let me use the name of his boat for the Oceanside vessel. 'Turandot' is an opera by Puccini, and the gist of it is, a suitor has to solve three riddles in order to marry a Princess. It felt fitting because in TWD show, Rick Grimes and co. ask survivors three questions when deciding if they should bring them back to their community. (How many walkers have you killed? How many people have you killed? Why?)


	2. What's Happened, and What's Going On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from TWD episode 5x9 by the same name.

Days passed by as Carol settled back into Alexandria. They had expanded the walls, Deanna’s dream of growth and prosperity now a reality. There were community gardens, two large greenhouses, a windmill. She wasn’t sure she made the right choice by coming back, but unlike everything else she had been doing for the past few months, it felt like a start. 

She busied herself with the variety of projects around her – sometimes construction and gardening, sometimes taking shifts on the wall. There was always something to do, but the work wasn’t as grueling as life on the boat. It was softer, made more so by how social it was. 

She checked in with Michonne after she arrived and learned about how the community was doing. The rest of her family, she had seen and worked with as she put her head down to the grind. Some days the amount of unfamiliar faces overwhelmed her, and she would spend quiet, solitary evenings at home. She even read books, of all the things. Such mundanity sometimes helped quiet her anxiety and grief. 

Sleep was still elusive. In her bed, mattress uncomfortably soft compared to her shelf on the boat, she would find herself in a familiar pattern of staring at the ceiling, observing the shadows dapple across on a strong breeze. 

****

The next morning, Gabriel requested her presence at a council meeting. Daryl met her at her house and led the way past newer construction in varying degrees of progress. The bones of the new church were built, but bright sunlight streamed through large support beams on either side. Even though the walls weren’t up yet, the space functioned for both the faithful and the secular; hosting community meetings, sermons, and educational demonstrations. At the moment, there was a large table up in front of the rows of benches and Carol could see that most members of the council were present, along with a woman that she recognized from Oceanside. 

Michonne nodded to her in greeting, arms crossed over her chest. The tension in her body was palpable. Carol looked over the council, which included Aaron, Gabriel, Michonne, Laura, and two others. She lowered herself down next to the Oceanside woman – Beatrice? 

“Where’s Siddiq?” she asked. 

“He’s needed at the clinic at the moment,” Gabriel answered, “He asked that I speak with you all now. Alright” -he stood up- “let’s begin. Aaron, Daryl and Beatrice were out hunting for the community. They’ve only just returned.” Gabriel turned to Aaron. “Aaron?”

Aaron stood up. Carol noted his broad shoulders were squared with resolution. The metal stump at the end of his left arm caught the early morning light. He cleared his throat before speaking. 

“We were out pretty far. We’d been tracking a deer for some time, and it brought us close to the northern border.” His eyes scanned across his council members. “We heard shouts - it seemed like someone was in trouble just over the border.” Aaron paused when he met Michonne’s eyes. “We crossed into Whisperer territory.” 

A flurry of mutterings rose from all the council members. Michonne turned hard; Carol could see her stance tighten and her jaw tensing. Her eyes all but shouted her incredulity. 

“You what?” she asked, not loud. She had a way of speaking, as if she were wielding her blade - sharp. “We have rules for a reason.” She took a step forward, making eye contact with the council. “We all made those rules together. What good are they if we just ignore them?” She turned back to Aaron. “What were you thinking?”

His shoulders were still set, but his face had fallen a little. 

“Back in the beginning, Deanna had me out there looking for survivors. Bringing people back has strengthened our community more than we ever could have imagined. I just couldn’t walk away from someone, knowing there was something I could have done to save them.”

Daryl addressed the group. “We brought her back,” he shifted his weight as he spoke. “She was surrounded by walkers. Hurt pretty bad. Hell, she’s just a kid.” 

“We weren’t in their territory long,” Beatrice began, “We didn’t go very far- “

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Michonne bristled, “We don’t even know who she is. It could have been a trap set by the Whisperers. The three of you could have been killed.”

“It weren’t no trap,” Daryl said. He was looking down, the curtain of his hair half obscuring his face, so it was hard for Carol to hear him. Now he was meeting Michonne’s eyes again. “We couldn’t just keep goin’.”

Carol watched Michonne quietly fume, and when she spoke, her voice was taut with irritation. “When we formed this council, you all voted me as head of security. I can’t keep us safe if members of this council don’t follow our own rules.”

Laura spoke up. “I think we all agree that what they did was dangerous. Maybe even stupid, but- “

“Stupid gets you killed, Laura,” Michonne countered.

Gabriel stood up. “Okay – enough. We need to discuss the consequences for this. In the meantime, the three of you are on probation.” Daryl snorted. Gabriel held his eyes. “No going beyond the wall until we parse this out. I don’t disagree with your basic fundamental moral code” -gaze scanning Aaron, Daryl, and Beatrice- “but Michonne’s right. We can’t afford to start a war with the Whisperers. We broke their rules once out of desperation, and we were lucky. Let’s not push that luck.”

“Carol,” Gabriel turned to her. “I asked you to come today because I want you to talk to the girl. See if you can find anything out about who she is and what happened. Aaron told me she’s in terrible shape – seemed to be she got herself into some trouble with people.”

Carol nodded. “Alright. I can do that.” 

“Everyone else, I’ll ask you to stay here and we can start sorting this out. Daryl and Beatrice – we’ll talk soon.”

Dismissed, Carol and Daryl followed Beatrice outside. Daryl turned to Carol, absently chewing on his lip. 

“Michonne’s right,” Carol said. “That was stupid.” 

Daryl met her gaze, nodded thoughtfully. “Um hmm,” he turned and started walking away, “Maybe.”

****

The original clinic had been small, held out of one house. As the community grew, the need for streamlined facilities compelled them to construct another building. The new clinic was not large – it held six beds – but they had built it specific to the needs of treatment. The interior felt much more spacious. 

There were only a couple of patients that Carol could see – one woman was getting her ankle bandaged. The other was at the far end of the space with Siddiq tending to her. Rosita was sitting in a chair next to the bed, arms crossed, pistol holstered at her thigh. They both turned to Carol as she approached. Siddiq’s eyes were kind, soft. He gave her a small smile of greeting. 

“Hey,” he said, softly. They both looked down at the patient. 

She was unconscious with an IV drip taped to her left arm. They had set her right arm in a brace from her elbow to her wrist. Her chin length blond hair still had blood and dirt caked near her scalp, even though it had clearly been washed. The pallor of her skin presented Carol all manner of bruises and welts on her arms and neck. The worst was her face. Her left eye was swollen shut and raw, weeping a yellowish fluid, bruised to deep purples and blues. Her strong jawline was scraped up and there was a bandage on her sharp cheekbone – presumably stitches underneath. The girl couldn’t be over nineteen years old. 

“She’s really banged up,” Siddiq began, “Broken arm, at least one broken rib. You see her face. The rest of her is more of the same. We don’t know how long she was out there, but Daryl said that she didn’t have any food or water. No pack. My biggest concern is that she may have rhabdo.” When Carol’s brow furrowed, he clarified. “It’s caused by severe physical trauma; in her case it would be exacerbated by dehydration and the fact that they found her immobilized while hiding from walkers. It could lead to kidney failure.” He sighed. “If that happens, we won't be able to help her.” 

“Whoever did this to her,” Rosita began, “wasn’t trying to kill her. At least not yet.” She met Carol’s eyes. “Seems to me she fought like hell.”

“She’s tough,” Carol said, her mind drifting. This girl would be just a couple of years younger than Sophia, if her daughter were alive today. Her chest constricted with familiar grief, but she willed herself to focus back to Rosita. “It’s good that you’re here – we don’t know anything about her.” Carol turned to Siddiq. “Has she been conscious?” He nodded. 

“She was in and out. Seemed to be in a lot of pain. Disoriented. I gave her antibiotics, a sedative, pain medication. She fell asleep a little while ago.” 

“Will you let me know when she is awake? Gabriel wanted me to talk with her.”

“Sure.”

****

That evening, staring up at her bedroom ceiling, her thoughts raced to her daughter as she considered the girl in the clinic. Her arsenal of defenses against grief was strong – used every time another friend died. She could shut down, face the next day with the conviction that the friends who died would want them to keep living. She had that, although those same tools barely touched her grief for her children. 

Tonight, she found her mind wandering to all of those people she had loved, all the people who touched her in some important way. Her children; her family. She found she couldn’t shut it out. The sharp pain of loss and grief clutched at her heart and kept her thoughts tethered to every horrific death she had witnessed. 

She felt her chest tighten and could feel herself losing control. Her vision dimmed and her breath puffed out in shallow gasps. The bedroom walls seemed to close in as her thoughts became more fractured and frantic, piling onto one another. 

__

JimJackieAmyDaleTdogLoriAndreaHerschelBethTyreeseGlennAbrahamDeniseSashaCarlJesusEnidTaraRick

__

_  
_

__

SophiaMikaLizzieHenry

__

_  
_

Sobs wracked her body, surprising and fierce. She turned to her side, her body heaving as she struggled not to gag. The pain in her chest was almost unbearable as she whined and gasped and rocked her body. She couldn’t catch her breath as she felt the tendrils of her panic twist in her chest. 

It felt like hours before her heaving chest slowed. She was reduced to whimpering and grasping at the sheets in her fist, knees drawn up to her chest. Her eyes were swollen and her throat raw; her breath hitched at irregular intervals. Slowly, her breathing started leveling out. She felt a growing numbness. An emptiness that she welcomed. Physical exhaustion overcame the embers of her panic, and she fell asleep. 

**** 

Carol slept through the night. When she woke up, pale early morning light was shining through her windows. Her body was still curled on her side. As she stared at the window, her face swollen and her throat tight, she told herself that she should get moving. Despite the discomfort in her body, she held onto that calm emptiness she had arrived to last night. 

She willed herself to get up and get moving. 

When Carol arrived at the clinic, she found the girl sleeping and Aaron slumped in a chair beside her bed. If possible, the bruises on the girl’s face looked even darker. Aaron nodded a greeting while Carol slid into a chair at the foot of the bed. She took in his rumpled cloths and tired eyes and supposed he was on watch last night. After a while, Aaron cleared his throat.

“I know you probably think what we did was irresponsible,” he began. “Hell, I know it was.” Aaron leaned forward, elbows at his knees, gaze drifted inward, not looking at anything in particular. The gleam of the metal attached to his stump bounced to the ceiling. 

“I should be dead,” he said, nodding towards his left arm. “A Savior got spooked by walkers coming into our work site and ran. One of the logs we were loading onto a truck pinned me down – pulverized my arm. Daryl got me out, brought me to the field clinic. Enid took off my arm and cauterized the wound. They saved my life.” 

His gaze became focused, and he met Carol’s eyes. “Watching Paul die… Seeing what they did to Enid... “ His voice hitched in his throat. He took a breath. “I know more than most about what the Whisperers are capable of. It’s just, if it wasn’t for Daryl, risking his life to get me out of there, I wouldn’t have even gotten a chance.” Aaron looked to the girl. “I had to try.” 

Carol studied Aaron’s face; the thick beard, his earnest eyes. She saw wounds that were so deep in all of them, a common thread uniting them all, and could feel the weight of them pulling his broad frame down. She said nothing for a long while. Then, “I know.”

A sad smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “The council— ”

A low moan interrupted his words, and they were both on their feet at the sides of the girl. She was waking up, wincing, trying to push her body up to a sitting position. She gasped out a yelp of pain when she put weight on her broken arm. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay… relax…” Carol intoned. Panic was rising in the girl’s face, and despite her pain, she backed as far against the back of the bed as possible 

“Oh god, shit,” the girl moaned, “Clementine? Where’s Clemen…” Carol watched the girl’s face as she went through disbelief, panic, and grief in a matter of seconds. “Let me outta here, I have to go, I need to go!” She tore at the bedsheets and tried to get to her feet, so fast that both Aaron and Carol reached for her, Aaron’s _okays_ and _relaxes_ drowned out by a shouted “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME.”

Carol and Aaron both stepped away. The girl scrunched back against the bed and was panting. One open eye darted everywhere, trying to take in her surroundings while keeping them both in her sight. 

Siddiq slammed into the room from the clinic office, but stopped short as he took in the scene. He raised a hand as he crept close to bed. 

“It’s okay… it’s okay… I’m a doctor. I’ve been taking care of you. My name’s Siddiq.” He started slowly walking towards her. “A few of our people found you in the woods… surrounded by walkers… badly hurt.” He stopped at the foot of her bed, hand still palmed out. “Aaron was part of that group.” He nodded towards Aaron. “And this is Carol. You need to rest. You’re dehydrated and have a broken arm and broken ribs. You won’t get very far in that condition.” 

The girl was panting; Carol knew it must be causing her a lot of pain. She made eye contact with Aaron and Siddiq and slowly lowered herself in the chair. The other two followed suit. The girl was trying to regulate her breathing. Carol could see the panic fading to deep distress as she took in what Siddiq was saying. A tear welled up in her eye. Her face twisted into a sob and her body slumped against the headboard. Carol’s own grief pulled in her chest as she watched the fight go out of the girl. She closed her eye, whispered to herself, “Clementine… I’m so sorry… no, no, no.”

Siddiq approached her and delivered a dose of pain medication in her IV. She didn’t seem to notice. The combination of the pain being dulled and the exhaustion of her panic sent her into a fitful sleep. The three of them walked towards the front of the clinic. 

Aaron ran a hand over his beard. “What the hell happened to her?”

Carol shook her head. 

“You didn’t see anyone else out there?” she asked. 

“No. No sign of anyone.”

“Well… someone should be here when she wakes up,” Carol said. “I’ll stay.”

****

The morning drifted by while Carol sat in the chair closest to the girl’s uninjured eye. She didn’t want to surprise her when she woke up. Aaron came by once with a bowl of stewed beans, and Carol didn’t realize just how hungry she was. She struggled to remember the last time she ate a full meal. When she finished, Aaron left with the bowl and she continued to gaze at nothing in particular, mulling over everything she could infer from the girl’s behavior. 

The girl was scared, but not for herself. She had left a dangerous situation and was planning on going right back into it, despite the extent of her injuries. She was strong. It would appear that she was also loyal - self-less in a very strident way. Whatever she’d been through was horrible, but clearly someone she deeply cared about was still in that situation. 

A rustle of the sheets focused her attention back to the present. The girl was looking around the room while pushing herself into a sitting position. She was wincing and blinking and saw Carol watching her. The deep despair Carol had witnessed earlier came crashing back into the girl’s expression. She didn’t, however, look like she was going to leave the bed again. 

“How're you feeling?” Carol asked. The girl’s face twisted up into a sardonic grimace. She met Carol’s gaze. 

“Like shit.” 

The tension in the air was palpable. 

“I’m Carol.”

“Yeah, I remember,” the girl said quickly. Her voice was hoarse and scratchy. Carol could tell that it always had a rasp to it, but the lack of use and dehydration didn’t help. She reached for a glass of water from the bedside table and offered it to her. The girl took it and sipped on it carefully. Then, quietly, “I’m Violet.” 

“Violet… I have to ask you a few questions. You up for that?” Violet searched Carol’s face. She gave her a brief nod. “Alright. Are you with a group?”

Violet, water glass forgotten, stared down at the brace on her arm while putting her thoughts together. Carol would give her as much time as she needed. Haltingly, she started talking. 

“We were at a boarding school when everything went to shit. The adults left us behind.” Violet’s face twisted into a grimace that was edging close to a sad smile. “We survived. Some of us.” Violet, her brow furrowed with pain, took another sip of water. 

“I can get Siddiq if the pain…” Carol offered. Violet shook her head. After a pause, she asked, “Where’s your group now?”

“Raiders came and took a couple of us.” Violet’s voice was stronger than before. “They had guns, horses. Called themselves Delta. They left us alone for a while until one day they didn’t.” Violet was staring down at her hand clasped around the glass of water. “Assholes tried to take us all away. We fought back.” 

She raised her eye and met Carol’s. “They took our two youngest, A.J. and Tennessee.” Violet took a quavering breath. “We went after them. Found their compound – or part of it. An old police station. Then they found us.” Violet’s face was tight with anger. “We were so fucking stupid.” Her anger crumpled into pain and grief. “They shot Louis and Omar, then brought the rest of us to the station. That’s where most of them are now.”

“Most of them?”

Violet’s features contorted with anguish. “They killed Ruby,” she choked. 

Carol could detect a slight tremor as she took the water glass from Violet’s hand. She watched her take a slow breath, hold it, let it out just as slowly, eye closed. When she caught Carol’s eyes again, there was that same look of despair that Carol observed earlier. Carol felt a deep sympathy coil in her chest. 

“Please,” Violet whispered, “please, I have to help them. I can’t let him- “ Her words were swallowed in a sob. Her entire body went limp, and tears flowed out of her, pooling out of her swollen eye. Carol stood up, reached for the girl’s hand. Violet clasped it tightly. 

“Rest now,” Carol said. “I’ll be back to see you soon.”

****

Carol asked Gabriel to hold a council meeting that evening. After Carol finished relaying Violet’s story, she could feel the tension in the room. She sat just as Daryl was standing up to address the group.

“I’ll go. I know where she was,” he said.

Beatrice stood up from her seat next to Carol’s. “I’ll go with him.”

Michonne stepped forward from her position by one of the support beams. 

“No one. Is going. Anywhere.” Her voice was firm. She met the eyes of everyone in turn. “This would be a direct transgression of the deal we struck with Alpha. I’m not risking the safety of our entire community based on one girl’s story.”

“Look,” Laura began, “I get it, Michonne. We all do. But I know that building, too. It was abandoned the last time we were through there. If that’s where this group is, that might mean that the Whisperers have moved on. Lydia told us they migrate, or whatever.”

“That,” Gabriel added, “or their group is so large that the Whisperers leave them alone.”

“If that’s true, then Alexandria may be in danger anyway,” Aaron said. “From what Violet says, from the extent of her injuries, these people are dangerous- “

Michonne bristled. “We don’t even know if she’s telling the truth.”

“I believe her,” Carol began, as all eyes turned to her. “She has no guile. She’s scared, but not for herself. If she could, she’d be on her way back now.”

Michonne turned to Carol. “I appreciate your assessment. I do. But my job here is to keep our community safe. I believe she’s been through something horrible. But what if it’s a trap? Staged by the Whisperers or set up by this new group. Maybe some of our own are taken? Maybe she’s here to get information about us? I can’t take that risk.” She appealed to the rest of the council. “There are too many unknowns. The one thing that we know is that if we cross that line, we’re inviting a war.”

Carol scanned the faces of the council, most looking thoughtful, a couple nodding their heads absently at Michonne’s words. 

“She’s going to leave,” Carol said, shifting in her seat. “Second she can stand up on her own. What happens then? She crosses into Whisperer territory – coming from Alexandria, she may as well be one of us. Then we start that war anyway, knowing nothing about this new group.” Carol glanced over at Daryl leaning against on one of the support beams. He nodded to her slightly.

“We’ll just have to watch her – make sure she doesn’t leave,” Michonne said.

Carol scoffed. “What, are we going to lock her in a cell?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Neither Carol nor Michonne had approached one another – Carol hadn’t even left her seat – but Michonne’s hard stare met the ice in Carol’s eyes, and the air bristled between them. Gabriel stood up.

“We’ll take the vote. Raise your hand if you think we should abide by our agreement with the Whisperers and not cross into their land?” Michonne and two others raised their hands. “Those who think we must follow up on this new group to evaluate any threats they may present to us, raise your hand.” Aaron, Siddiq and Laura raised their hands. Michonne crossed her arms across her chest, fire in her eyes. “That leaves my vote to decide.” Gabriel sighed. “I need to think on this some more. By tomorrow morning, I’ll have my vote. Thank you all for your service.” 

Dismissed, people began gathering their things and heading to the exit. Daryl stood leaning against the wall, watching Carol’s approach. He gave her a nod. 

“You trust this girl,” he stated. Carol shook her head. 

“I can’t say I trust her, but I believe her. Like I said.” She searched his eyes. “You think this is a good idea?” 

He rolled his shoulder in a shrug. “Won’t know ‘til we know.” 

Michonne sidled up to Carol’s side. She looked weary, Carol could see it in her eyes and the way she held her shoulders. Her gaze was softer than it had been. 

“You’re wrong about this,” Michonne began.

Carol shrugged. “It’s not up to me.”

“Yeeeaaah.” Michonne left them and strode out of the door.

****

After the meeting, Carol walked the streets of Alexandria as people around her were heading home for dinner. She heard the occasional peel of laughter from behind closed doors. She had never quite gotten used to how normal everything seemed. 

The walls had sheltered the people of Alexandria for so long. It had spared them from the walkers and the worst of what other people could do. They had been spared from what they themselves would have to do. When Rick brought their group here, Carol had thought these people were a lost cause. They were too wrapped up in their make-believe of yesterday to see how things were; too weak to survive. 

It took enormous sacrifice to bear through the trauma of the herd from the quarry, followed by the attack from the Wolves, and then the terror and indignities from the Saviors. But the people of Alexandria saw through those traumas and came out survivors. It was how they kept together and how they continue to thrive in a world that was vastly more dangerous than the one they had been born to. 

Carol stuffed her hands in her coat pockets, keeping a slow pace, her breath puffing out in the chill October air. She couldn’t blame Michonne for her position. After the Whisperers came, after the fall of The Kingdom, safety was something that everyone worried about. Michonne took the brunt of that weight on her shoulders. Carol knew the proposition to gather information on Delta was risky, but there was also a big part of her that never really accepted Alpha’s deal at face value. The Whisperers would come – that, she was sure of. The threat from this unknown group was more troubling to Carol. 

Without thinking about it, she crossed the street in the clinic’s direction. Opening the door, she saw Siddiq speaking with a man by his office. He raised a hand in greeting but continued his conversation. Rosita was sitting by Violet’s bed again, head resting in her hand. She looked up as Carol sat down. 

“How is she?” Carol asked.

Rosita shook her head. 

“Doc said she’s been resting a lot. I just got here myself.” Rosita’s expression was curious. “How’re you holding up?” she asked. 

Surprised, Carol snorted a laugh. “What do you mean?” 

Rosita continued to hold her gaze. “Ah, it’s just… you were gone awhile. Figured it’d be hard to be back here” -she gestured all around them- “with all this, all the people.” 

Carol turned towards Violet as she settled into her chair. 

“I’m fine,” she said. Carol could sense Rosita’s eyes on her, and she turned and added, “I’m working on it.” Rosita nodded. “I can stay. You should get some rest.” 

“Sure?” Rosita asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

****

“You’re back.”

Carol started awake, head jumping from her hand and body adjusting in her chair. She glanced around the clinic - they had kept one or two lights on, but otherwise all was quiet. It looked like Siddiq had left the man she saw him talking to earlier to keep watch overnight. Her wristwatch read 12:32am. She turned her gaze and saw that Violet was awake – one eye fixed on Carol’s and the other eye still massively colored, but a little less swollen. It looked like the infection was down. 

Carol grabbed the empty glass from the bedside table and refilled it. Violet observed without moving much. By now, she was most definitely acquainted with how and when her body hurt. 

“How does everything feel?” Carol asked, as she settled back into her chair. 

Violet shrugged one of her shoulders up. Stared down at her hands lying on top of the sheet. Carol let the moment be, glanced at the IV steadily dripping into Violet’s arm. She heard the faint hum of a generator in back. 

“They took my girlfriend.” Violet spoke so quietly that Carol almost missed it. Her brows were furrowed; her eyes were distant. “The guy in charge told us she and her sister had died on a run. It was supposed to be me on that run, but I’d asked her to take my place.” Violet took several steady breaths. “I never forgave myself - I wanted to die. I pushed everyone away from me. I felt like I should suffer.” She drew in a long breath, held it, exhaled.

“When we found Clementine and A.J., they were in a car wreck surrounded by the dead. We brought them back.” Her voice trailed off as she stared into the distance. “Clementine saw through my bullshit. She reached out.” Violet gave a sharp, humorless laugh. “I was such an asshole, but she didn’t let that stop her. She gave me a reason to care again…” 

Now she held Carol’s gaze. “When Delta came, we learned the truth. That Marlon had given them Minnie and Sophie, and in exchange they were supposed to leave the rest of us alone.” Violet grasped the water glass, almost as if she needed something to hold on to. “Clem helped us have the courage to make a stand. She’s a survivor.” Her eyes clouded over. She took a sip of her water, winced a little at the movement. 

“She wanted to go after A.J. and Tenn alone. Maybe if she had, she’d have made it.” The stark loneliness and pain etched into her face was so intense that Carol hitched in a sharp breath of her own. “I left, and she’s still there with that monster and part of me hopes… part of me hopes that she’s dead, so it would just fucking _stop_ ,“ Violet choked on her last word. Her body was trembling slightly and her expression was somewhere between anguish and fury. Carol reached out and held her hand before thinking about it. 

“You can’t let yourself get caught up in the what ifs,” Carol said. “You do that, they’ll be nothing left of you.” Carol thought she could detect a hint of gratitude in Violet’s expression. “How’d you get away?” There was a brief pause; Violet shifted slightly. 

“One guy started talking to me. Said I reminded him of someone he used to know… before.” She took another sip of water. “Told me his group wasn’t always like this. That it had done a lot of good. Said he didn’t see how things were changing until it was too late.” Violet closed her eyes. “He helped me escape. ‘Accidentally’ left my door unlocked.” She shook her head. “Poor bastard.” 

Carol gave her hand a squeeze. “Is there anything more that you can tell me about these people?”

****

Carol rapped loudly on the wood door. A moment later Gabriel pulled it open, blinking in the moonlight. Carol hadn’t even thought about how late it was. 

“Carol?” She barely registered his surprise. 

She brushed by him. “I need to talk to you,” she said.

They sat in the living room across from one another. There was a dying fire in the hearth that felt all wrong to Carol, its warmth barely registering through the deep chill in her body. 

“What’s happened? Is the girl alright?” Gabriel asked. 

“The group that had Violet is dangerous. We need to do something about it.” 

He frowned and shifted positions on the couch carefully. “Tell me.”

Carol ran a hand through her short, silver hair – she had cut it just before getting on the boat. When she married Ed, she had learned quickly that it was best to keep her hair as short as she’d dare – less for him to grab when he was drunk and in a fury. Only when she had been with Ezekiel had she felt safe enough to grow her hair long again. After everything that had happened, and when she needed to get away, she felt the long hair wouldn’t be practical and cut it back to a close crop. It’s short length gave her a sense of stability and strength now. 

“This compound they found, the police station, was just an outpost for a much larger community. There were five men stationed there. The man in charge is Carter. Delta had taken the kids, intending to groom them to be soldiers. They’re gearing up for war, Gabriel.”

Carol realized she was gripping her left hand so tightly that it was aching. She relaxed her right hand and returned her gaze to Gabriel’s. His blind right eye had a glistening, milky fog made opaque by the light from the embers, his features twisted into a frown. 

“Carter told the kids they had to learn discipline, they had to understand what the consequences of disobedience would be. He tortured them - made it a game. He tied them up, counted down eenie, meenie, miney, mo…” Shock registered on Gabriel’s face. “A girl was chosen, and he pulled her up before all of them… shackled her. Broke her bones and made her sit in her own filth… It took almost two days for her to die... The others had to watch.” 

The calm monotone of her voice belied the fact that the tang of nausea was rising to her throat. “After she turned, he took its jaw off… while it was still shackled” -Carol’s lip curled- “he _raped_ it.” Carol was sure that the horror she saw in Gabriel’s face was a mirror image of her own. “Over and over. Violet was so sick that she was dry heaving and gagging. This… Carter. He laughed. Told everyone they’d all have their turn, if they didn’t join the cause. They were locked in individual cells after that. They beat Violet unconscious for making a fuss.”

Gabriel just stared at Carol. Then he ran a hand over his bald head and took a shuddering breath. 

“He was a Savior…” he breathed.

“Or someone the Savior’s attacked,” Carol replied. Gabriel closed his eyes tight, almost as if in prayer. When he opened them, it seemed like he had come to some resolution. 

“We need to talk to Negan.”

****

Gabriel unlocked the door to the cell, nodded to the guard standing outside, and led Carol into the space. The moonlight from the single window was dim, but the lantern they brought offered up enough illumination. 

Negan sat on his bed with his feet up. Despite the hour, it appeared he was nowhere near sleep. He chuckled as they entered. Carol stood slightly behind Gabriel and observed the carefully arranged nonchalance of Negan’s position. His grin stretched wide underneath his beard, his eyes almost twinkling in the light. 

“Father Gabriel… you here to take another confession?” he said jovially. His eyes found Carol, and he sat up straighter. “Oh… what have we here? To what do I owe the pleasure of an audience with the _Ice Queen?_ ”

“For once, can you just shut your mouth?” Gabriel asked, weary. If possible, Negan’s grin seemed to stretch even farther. Carol stood at Gabriel’s side, impassive. Negan ignored Gabriel and addressed Carol. 

“You know, I’ve been _talkin’_ to the good people ‘round here. The stories I’ve _heard_ about you.” He clicked his tongue and sat up straight, elbows on his knees. “Ice,” he whispered, “right from the start.”

He leaned back, settling in. Carol just stared at him. She felt herself clench up, almost as if she were holding her breath, waiting for it to end.

“Heard about you killing those two back at the prison. My man _Rick_ sent you away for that, didn’t he? Yeah…” Negan held her eyes. “Then you came back just in time to save Rick and his dick parade from the cannibals… blew that camp wide open… saved their sorry asses.” His expression was appraising, unnerving Carol far more than his words. “I have to respect that. You take care of the hard shit.” 

Negan’s smile faded, and he affected a solemn concern. “Poor King Ezekiel’s been dragging his tail between his legs. Heard you dropped him _right after_ you found your son’s head on a pike.” He clicked his tongue again. His eyes were black by the glow of the lantern light. “Ice… cold…”

Carol took a step closer to the bars. She would not give him the satisfaction of reacting, even as her stomach knotted at the thought of Henry. 

“We need to ask you a few questions,” she said. Her steady eyes held his. What he saw in them cracked his smile wide open again and he chuckled. “Back at the Sanctuary,” she continued, “did you have someone named Carter working for you?” Watching the smile disappear from Negan’s face gave her more satisfaction than she would care to admit. He pursed his lips together and shook his head. 

“Huh…” he said, almost to himself. 

Carol got as close to the bars as she could without touching them. “Tell us.” Negan looked back up at Carol. 

“You know, it was true before and it’s most certainly true now… It is so hard to find good help.” He rubbed his hand over his beard, staring off. “Carter was a sick man. At first, I appreciated his enthusiasm for smashing the brains of both the dead and the living. Seemed to love every goddamned minute of it. It’s good to have people like that on your side… you know the kind – the ones that take care of the dirty work?” His eyes gleamed with amusement as he met Carol’s stare. He chuckled again. “Not that I ever shied away from that sort of thing myself…”

“Why wasn’t he with the Saviors when we took the Sanctuary?” Carol asked.

“Like I said… he was a sick man. We’ve all done some terrible, fucked up shit to stay alive out there.” One corner of his mouth turned up in the beginning of a smile. “You know what I’m talkin’ about.” Carol’s jaw set, and that brought out a wider grin from Negan. “Thing is… there are still lines that we can cross that we never come back from.” 

Sobering, he looked from Carol to Gabriel and back. “We caught the sick fuck screwing a walker. He’d tied it up good and was just going at it like he thought he was going to father a whole new _generation_ of the dead.” He shook his head. “That kinda sick shit, I simply cannot abide by.” Negan paused and looked down at his hands. “Dwight was s’posed to take care of it. But then… now that I know what a back-stabbing fuck ol’ Dwighty-boy was, it ain’t all too surprising he didn’t have the sack for it.” Negan met Carol’s eyes again. “’Cause that’s why you’re askin’, right? You found him or he found you and you’re wondering who you’re dealing with.”

Gabriel and Carol exchanged a glance. 

“We found a girl,” Gabriel began, “she’s hurt. Her friends are still being held by this man.”

“Best not to start anything you’re not willing to finish, Gabey. I mean, look at me - rehabilitated, yes, sir! You wouldn’t ever have believed it, but here I am. And when the shit hit the fan, I was there _just at the right moment_ to save Rick’s little girl.” Negan’s eyes darkened, and he leaned forward on his elbows. “You sure as shit don’t want that twisted fuck anywhere near the Grimes girl.” He leaned back; hands folded in his lap. “Gonna have to kill him. Think you got the stomach for it?” Carol squared her shoulders; held Negan’s eyes. 

Negan’s lips curled into a smile and he exhaled a slow breath. 

“Yes, ma’am. I do believe you’ve got balls big enough for the job.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the major character death - there were a hand full of characters that I wanted to explore in this fic. It's nothing personal to all the ones who will not be on this journey. <3


	3. Safe Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank everyone who has given this a read - it means a lot to me!

There was a chill in the air the next morning that made Carol think of snow. The air even smelled like winter, the overcast sky promising months of wind and ice. She zipped her coat fully and shoved her hands in her pockets, her breath puffing out ahead of her as if leading her way. She walked briskly, and noted that people all around her were bundled and walking a little too quickly, looking like they were trying to outrun the season. 

In response to the encroaching weather, Gabriel was hosting the council meeting at his residence. Carol walked the few steps up to his porch and rapped at his door. Aaron answered with a gentle smile and ushered her inside. She took off her layers and stepped into the living room. A fire was crackled merrily in the hearth. Gabriel was handing out cups of tea and instant coffee to fight off the chill. Carol lowered herself into an armchair and accepted a mug gratefully. She nodded a greeting to Daryl, who was leaning against the kitchen island. 

Gabriel settled into the chair closest to the front door and gave a long sigh. Without preamble, he recounted the previous evening’s conversations. When he finished, Carol looked around the room at the ashen faces of the council. Michonne’s expression was distressed, her eyes fixated on nothing in particular. 

Gabriel addressed Laura. “What do you know about this man?” he asked.

Laura grimaced and shook her head. 

“Not much,” she said. “He was before my time. There was talk about one of Negan’s ‘inner circle’ losing it. Never heard details.”

Gabriel looked around the room. “I fear that this recent information compels my vote,” he said. “I think we should send a search party to gather information – not to engage. We need to be smart about this.”

Daryl pushed off from the counter. “I’m goin’.” 

Gabriel nodded and turned to Michonne. “Michonne, I need you to put together the rest of the team and head out – the sooner we know more, the better.”

****

The forest floor was blanketed with dried leaves, making the attempt at stealth even more challenging. Carol followed a short distance away from Daryl, appraising how silently he moved through the woods. It seemed to Carol that he was far more at home out in the wild without walls to hamper his senses. 

He paused at a granite formation, amidst about a dozen dead walkers, and waited for everyone to catch up. Aaron and Beatrice were closer, followed by Michonne and Laura. 

“Found the girl here – wedged in there good,” Daryl said as he circled the rocks. It didn’t take him long to find a trail. “C’mon,” he said, as he gestured with a nod. The pairs of two walked parallel, keeping everyone in sight while covering as much ground as possible. A walker was trailing them; by the guttural hiss and the swish and crunch of leaves, Carol thought it was probably just one. 

While Daryl slowed to examine the trail, Carol let her assault rifle swing on its strap to settle between her shoulder blades. Unsheathing her knife, with the cold steel wrapped around her knuckles, she turned and walked towards the noise. 

The walker was maybe six yards away, skin sloughing off its arms and face as it hissed and redoubled its efforts to reach her. Its unsteady gait looked to be due to a broken leg unnaturally twisted beneath it. The clothes were crusted with filth and shredded in so many places that Carol could see how gaunt it was. Its eyes were milky white. The stink, that sickly sweet rot so ubiquitous that she rarely noticed it, was assertive in the crisp autumn air. It staggered towards her, arms outstretched. 

She closed the gap between them and arched her blade down into its skull; the knife sank through the decayed bone and rotten flesh to the hilt. With one clean, practiced movement, she shoved it away with her boot while swinging the knife up and out. It crumpled in a heap, rendering the woods silent. She stooped down and wiped the viscous, brown blood off her blade and replaced it in its sheath as Daryl’s whistled ahead. He’d found something.

Crouched low and walking as silently as she could, she followed Daryl a few feet away. As they approached a crest in the landscape, she heard the constant hissing and croaking of what sounded like a lot of walkers. Daryl was stock still, peering ahead, his entire body taut. She settled herself next to him and found that they had reached the edge of the woods. A steep outcropping of rocks tumbled down below them, probably about twelve feet down. Off in the distance, perhaps a mile and a half away, Carol saw a police station and a road. 

There were walkers everywhere, enveloping her with the constant guttural sounds and that familiar rotten stench. There were so many that she assumed they must have split off from a herd. Walkers piled up against the station, nudging their way inside. The others quickly clustered around, crouched and tense. 

Michonne whispered, “We should go. There could be Whisperers down there. Carter is dead, or they’re long gone.”

Daryl leaned forward, scanning the walkers intently. Aaron turned to Michonne. 

“What about Violet’s friends?” Aaron asked. “What if they’re still in there?”

“That’s a pretty big ‘what if’,” Michonne hissed. 

Daryl was chewing on his lip. He turned to Michonne. “They ain’t there,” he said. “Ah’d see ‘em.” He nodded towards the walkers. “Ain’t no pattern.”

Michonne stared hard at the walkers. She shook her head. 

“Let’s make this quick,” she stated. 

Carol walked back to the walker she killed and dragged it to the others. She drew her blade and sliced into its torso, carving it open. From the way Aaron’s face blanched, Carol knew he must not have done this before. He visibly composed himself against the gore while pulling sheets out of his bag. They sliced holes in the sheets and draped them over themselves like ponchos. She, Aaron, and Daryl began smearing themselves with blood and guts. Every patch of exposed skin was covered first, then they began smearing the sheets. The smell was nauseating. 

Michonne dragged another dead walker towards them. Beatrice and Laura, while attempting stoicism, were wide eyed as Michonne drove her sword into the abdomen of the walker. After covering themselves, the group picked their way down the escarpment amongst the dead, the fresh putrid stench rendering them invisible. 

Daryl led the way, walking as fast as he could, weaving around the moaning and growling walkers. Once or twice, Carol bumped into one; sometimes flayed skin would slough off and add to her collection of guts. The noise was incessant; the guttural groans and growls, the shuffling and staggering footsteps. 

Carol glanced behind her and saw the others following in line, hands on their blades and faces set. She kept pace with Daryl. They neared the chain-link fence that circled the station – in several places, the fence had bent in under pressure of so many bodies pushing against it. Daryl quickly hopped over the bent metal. Carol followed, apprehensive of the screech of the shifting metal. Daryl, back against the wall of the building, strafed quickly to the left and peered around the corner, crossbow held loose in front of him. He made eye contact with Carol and jerked his head onward. 

She rounded the corner and saw the main building entrance. The density of walkers there was higher, and she could see some filing into the building. There were eight or nine dead walkers scattered around the door. Daryl gestured for Carol and the others to catch up. He nodded in the door’s direction. 

“They’re gone. Let’s see what we can see,” Daryl said. Aaron came to join Carol and Daryl; Michonne, Laura and Beatrice spread out to be their eyes outside.

Carol pushed past the walkers in the doorway and adjusted to the space. The large entry way had the remains of a receptionist desk and ruined furniture that had presumably been a waiting area. A shield on the back wall read Arlington County Sheriff’s Department. Two hallways branched off either side of the room; a door was dangling on a single hinge behind the desk.

There was a dead body lying against the wall, shot unceremoniously through the skull. The man was middle-aged and dressed in military fatigues. Carol had to assume that this was the man that had helped Violet escape. 

Aaron closed the front door, and they promptly dispatched the walkers tottering around the room. The sounds of the walkers outside were muted now. Hazy sunlight filtered in through high windows. 

“Let’s split up,” Aaron said. “Cover ground faster.”

Carol nodded and strode towards the door behind the desk. She stepped over debris, knife clutched in her hand as she walked. The light barely reached the hallway beyond the door. She pulled a penlight out of her pocket and turned it on; the sharp beam cut through the darkness. 

The noise of the walkers was a subdued hiss now, hardly audible. She passed several doors but kept moving forward until she arrived at a heavy steel door. She tested the handle and found that it was unlocked; she nudged it open and peered inside. Two thin, barred windows let in slashes of wavering daylight as walkers shambled past. She swiveled her light back and forth and could make out the bones of the cells. 

There was a desk to her right as she stepped in. She found jars of food and a bottle of water, evidence that Delta had left in a hurry. There were two separate cells to her left, set next to each other, which Carol presumed to be the drunk tank. She had bailed Ed out enough times to know. A single large cell dominated the room. There were benches bolted into the ground on either side of the cell door. 

She approached slowly and pushed the door inwards with a metallic grating of hinges. There were shackles that appeared hastily welded to the wall straight in front of her. A body was heaped to the side. The floor was tacky; the stink of excrement and fear thick in the stale air. 

Carol swung the flashlight from the shackles to the body on the floor. She could make out medium length, reddish hair. The face of the body was mutilated – the lower half where its mouth and jaw should have been now a yawning, black scramble of tissue and smashed pieces of bone. One of its arms was twisted unnaturally to its back, its elbow having been shattered. It had scraps of torn material covering its torso, but it was naked from the waist down. It was difficult for her to identify what she was looking at – dried blood was caked all over its legs and crotch. There were knife slashes and burns everywhere she looked.

Carol turned away from the body, closing her eyes quickly, her throat tight. She stepped out of the cell and into the hallway, away from the gut clenching smell. She tried the door on her right; it was securely locked. She pounded on the door. 

Pausing, her ear close to the wood, she thought she detected a faint groan. A beam of light swung down the hallway towards her. Daryl and Aaron made their way towards her. 

She gestured to the door. “This one’s locked,” she said. “Something’s inside.” Aaron and Daryl tried the other doors – two others were also locked. Carol heard shuffling and a dull thud behind her door. “We have to get these open.”

Daryl slung his crossbow across his back and began kicking the door closest to him. Carol walked back into the reception room. She quickly located what she was after and hefted the fire extinguisher back to the hallway. She swung the extinguisher against the door, next to the knob. The impact jarred her teeth but barely shook the door. She redoubled her effort and hurled the metal canister with her shoulders. She was rewarded with a slight split in the wood. At the same moment, Daryl burst open the door he had been working on. He pulled a knife out of its sheath as he rushed through the doorway. 

Carol swung as hard as she could against the crack, which splintered on impact. One more swing and the door broke free from the metal lock. She dropped the canister, pulled her knife and nudged the door open. 

A body flung itself towards her, hissing and growling. She was ready; she angled a solid kick to its legs, and the walker crumpled to the floor. Its hands were bound behind its back and it growled as it attempted to haul itself to its feet. She swung her blade into its skull at the temple, and the body immediately folded back down. 

It had been a boy - couldn’t have been over thirteen years old. Dirt and blood dulled the shock of brown hair on its head. The left side of its face was blackened and battered. She couldn’t identify any fatal wounds in her cursory glance, and she turned away. Aaron was almost through the last door. 

Daryl came back into view, hunched, supporting someone’s weight. The boy was close to Violet’s age; dark-skinned, with large features and thick eyebrows. He was alive, but barely conscious, mumbling and groaning. His face was covered in welts and he wasn’t putting much weight on his right leg. When Carol met Daryl’s eyes, they were empty and distant; she couldn’t identify the emotions playing themselves out across his face. 

With a final slam, the last door shuddered open. Aaron pulled his hatchet from his belt and Carol held her knife at the ready. Carefully, Aaron pushed the door aside and as he did, his weapon dropped to his side. 

“Christ…” he said.

Carol shouldered past and shone her light through the doorway. She lowered her knife as her gut twisted into her throat. 

A girl was sprawled against the wall, her arms held above her head with chains. There was so much blood on the floor that Carol was certain she had to be dead. Like the other bodies, there were knife cuts and burns covering her exposed skin. Her dark, curly hair was short, pulled off to one side in a bun. Carol could make out what looked like cuts down both cheeks, tracked down in some crude reproduction of tears. Her pants were bunched down by the ankles of her boots, the shreds of underwear were torn around her hips. 

She presumed that this was Clementine. Her gut clenched as she thought about Violet, and the conversation she would have to have. Even as Carol was about to turn away, stomach churning, the girl moved; she moaned and tried to shift, mumbling softly. 

“She’s alive,” Carol said, as she strode towards her and grasped the shackles. The bolt was firmly embedded in the wall. 

Aaron stepped into the room. “Stand back.” 

Carol stepped aside as Aaron swung the blunt edge of his hatchet down against the bolt. It bent down, and after another swing came loose entirely, the metal chains releasing and Clementine’s arms dropped to her sides. She was trying to move away, trying to back into the corner of the room, even as she seemed completely disoriented. 

Carol knelt next to her, held her palms up but didn’t touch her. 

“Shh… it’s okay. We’re going to get you out of here. Clementine, you’re safe now.” The girl froze when she heard her name. She forced her eyes open, unfocused, in Carol’s direction. Her face contorted with pain and she shut her eyes and slumped. Carol leaned closer. “Clementine?” The girl didn’t answer, didn’t move. Carol thought she might be unconscious. 

She held Aaron’s eyes as she reached for the belt of her pants. Aaron knelt down and slid one arm under the girl’s knees and lifted as Carol pulled the pants up. Her throat constricted tightly at the sight of the girl’s thighs, covered with bruises and blood. Once the belt was tightened around her hips, they each brought one of her arms over their shoulders and hauled her up. Even as a dead weight, she was light between them. 

The boy Daryl was propping up blinked rapidly. His eyes went wide when he saw Clementine draped between them, and his breath hitched. 

“She’s alive,” Aaron stated. “We need to get you both out of here.” The boy continued to stare at Clementine. He turned to Aaron, eyebrows knit in confusion. 

“Who… who are you?” he asked. 

Daryl shifted impatiently. “No time,” he growled. “C’mon. We gotta go.”

Out in the lobby, the groaning of the walkers outside much louder, Carol and Aaron gently lay Clementine down on the torn couch. Daryl dropped the boy into a chair and he pulled his knife and started digging into the nearest walker with it. The boy looked on wide eyed. Aaron was taking out a couple of sheets out of his backpack. Carol crouched close to the boy. 

“What’s your name?” she asked. He continued to stare with increasing horror as Daryl dug ropes of guts out of the walker. “Hey.” He finally turned to her. “Your name?”

He licked his lips, eyes darting from her to Daryl and back. 

“It’s, uh… Aasim. My name’s Aasim.” She placed a firm hand on his shoulder, and when he flinched, she felt a flash of regret. 

“Aasim, I’m Carol. There’s a lot of walkers outside. We have to cover ourselves with their scent if we’re going to get out of here.” He studied her as if seeing her for the first time, taking in the smeared blood and guts all over her face and clothes, then looking Aaron and Daryl over. “Think you can handle that?” His eyes were enormous, but he nodded quickly. “Good.” 

She pushed off from her crouch and joined Daryl and Aaron as they covered both sheets with blood. Daryl met her eyes. 

“Found the boy just like her,” he said, quietly. Carol saw that same coolness in his eyes, but something else behind it. Anger. Sadness. She nodded once and turned back to the viscera. “I’m gonna kill ‘em,” Daryl said. “Don’t matter that nothin’ ain’t right no more. People like that don’t get to live.” 

Finished, Aaron sliced three holes into one sheet and approached Aasim with it. Hesitantly, Aasim arranged the sheet around himself, head and arms bare. 

“Did you find the others? Willy?” he asked. Aaron winced as he shook his head. Aasim’s features crumpled. “Violet?” 

Aaron gave him a soft smile. “She’s back at our camp, hurt, but she’ll be okay. She’s how we found you.” 

Aaron gestured to the walker and Aasim, wide eyed, started pressing blood on his arms and face. He was trembling, breathing in shallow pants. Carol arranged Clementine’s arms out of the second sheet and covered them with blood. 

Daryl headed to the door and opened it wide. The walkers were scattered, but a couple of them turned at the sound and ambled over to the open doorway. Aasim watched with horror as they approached, looking like he wanted to bolt. When they brushed past Daryl as if they didn’t see him, he relaxed somewhat. Daryl stood outside the doorway and turned to his right – whistled and heard one in response. Moments later, he poked his head back in and nodded to the door. 

Aaron and Carol eased Clementine’s arms around their shoulders, stood up and walked forward under her weight, the tips of her boots dragging on the ground. Daryl strode to Aasim, hitched one of his arms around the boy, and they started hobbling towards the door. The others had started a fire to draw away the bulk of the walkers.

They shuffled back towards the bent fences. The others were waiting, Beatrice and Laura reached out to help as Michonne stood with her sword at the ready. They hauled Clementine over the fence and Carol followed. Aaron helped Aasim over next, while Daryl had his crossbow up and ready. 

Once everyone was clear of the fence, Michonne gestured to their left. The escarpment they had climbed down smoothed out and joined the road further down. Beatrice and Laura lead the way, threading through the walkers carefully, knives held at the ready. Michonne followed, the wicked blade of her sword gleaming in the early morning sun. 

They made their way back to the granite formation and paused. Carol and Aaron lifted the sheet off of Clementine and eased her on the ground, sitting up against the rock. Daryl leaned Aasim against the granite, and Aasim pulled the sheet off of himself. He winced at the effort. His breathing was ragged and there was sweat collected on his brow. Aaron drew a canteen out of his bag and offered it to Aasim, which he took gratefully and took a long pull of water. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. Aaron nodded, turned back to the others.

“Let’s keep moving,” Michonne began, “I don’t want to be out here any longer than we need to be. Beatrice, Laura – you take the girl. I’ll help him back.” Beatrice and Laura draped Clementine’s arms around their shoulders and hauled her up. She groaned and mumbled, but her body remained limp. Michonne got an arm around Aasim and they all started back towards the border. 

****

Carol was the first through the clinic door. Siddiq was with a patient, but when he saw the expression on Carol’s face he sprang into action. Beatrice and Laura carried Clementine through the door. Siddiq threw the sheets off the nearest bed and they awkwardly stretched her limp body onto it. 

“Rosita,” Siddiq called, his voice even, “I’m going to need a hand over here.”

Aaron started talking low to Siddiq as Rosita joined him. Carol brushed by her on her way to the back of the clinic. Violet was sitting up, tense and wide-eyed. Carol slowed when she approached the foot of her bed. 

“We found Clementine and Aasim- “ Carol began, and before she could continue, Violet was pushing herself off from the bed and staggering to her feet. Carol steadied her with hands on her shoulders, gently restraining, thankful that they had removed her IV. Carol sought her eyes and held them. “Let Siddiq help her.” Violet’s eyes darted over her shoulder; watching the flurry of movement. Siddiq’s voice was calm as he spoke to Rosita. Violet’s brow furrowed with distress. 

“Is…” Violet cleared her throat. “Is she okay?”

Carol tightened her grasp on her shoulders. 

“We need to let Siddiq work.” Violet shut her eyes, exhaled a slow breath. When she opened them, tears were shining in her eyes. 

“I need to see her,” Violet said, almost a whisper. The desperation in her eyes was clear, her fear palpable. Carol nodded and shifted over to Violet’s left side and slowly helped her walk over. 

“I’m right here with you,” she said. Violet met her gaze and gave her a slight nod. 

Siddiq and Rosita were bent over Clementine. Rosita was busy cleaning the grime and blood from Clementine’s skin. Siddiq was taking her blood pressure. Aaron was sitting by Aasim’s side, working a washcloth over his skin. 

As they approached, Violet sucked in a harsh breath. Clementine was still unconscious. The knife marks on her face were stark against her pale skin. There were deep purple and black marks forming a perverse collar around her neck. Siddiq was setting her up with an IV, while Rosita was cutting at her shirt with scissors. As they pulled aside her shirt, they could see more bruising on her stomach and chest. 

Violet turned away and squeezed her eyes shut as tears flowed down her face. Carol kept her hand steady on her back. 

“Vi?” A soft, gravelly voice sounded behind them. Violet turned and Aasim was braced up on his elbows, a crooked smile pulling across his swollen face. 

Violet tried to smile, wiped at her eyes with her palm. “Aasim.” 

The girl closed the gap and cautiously leaned down and grasped him in a stiff embrace. Carol and Aaron stepped back as Aasim started heaving sobs against Violet’s shoulder.

****

The overcast sky threatened rain, no doubt bone chilling at the current temperatures. Carol sat on her porch swing, layered with a sweater and jacket. Her gaze was unfocused as she idly pushed herself back and forth. 

Her thoughts were unhurried and vivid. Her mind’s eye observed the police station cell, the mutilated body she found – Violet, Aasim and Clementine’s injuries and trauma. Daryl’s vow echoed in her head and she felt a familiar dread in the pit of her stomach. They didn’t know what they were dealing with yet, and those unknowns worried her. She had complete confidence that Daryl could handle himself, but that knowledge didn’t stop the burst of preemptive grief course through her. She knew that if anything happened to him, she would lose everything she had left.

“Hey.” 

She was yanked out of her thoughts and saw Daryl standing at the bottom of the porch steps. As a nod to the weather, he wore a long-sleeved thermal shirt, and a hooded jacket. She softened at the sight of him, let herself smile. 

“Hey,” she responded.

He was observing her in that way he had, evaluating where she was with keen eyes and a deep understanding of who she was. Daryl slowly climbed the stairs and dropped in the seat next to her, swinging them back with his weight. He sat with his elbows on his knees, hands twitching slightly as he stared into the distance. 

Carol realized that she never saw him truly stop – there was constantly some kind of coiled, frenetic energy in him just below the surface. She couldn’t help but speculate how much of that wary energy was created from his harsh upbringing, or if it had been cultivated by the horrors of the world they now navigated. They rested in companionable silence for a moment. Even as she watched, the clouds seemed to deepen into a dark grey, and she felt the first few ice-cold drops of rain pepper her face. 

“Come on inside?” she offered. Daryl grunted an affirmative, and she led them through the screen door. She headed into the living room and heard Daryl shut the door behind him. She crouched next to the hearth, started the business of lighting the fire and coaxing flames out of the kindling. Daryl dropped on the couch behind her. 

“I keep thinking about the police station,” she began. He said nothing in response. The flames began leaping over the logs, and Carol pushed back and turned to Daryl. Sat down next to him and they both stared into the fire. As the warmth spread into the room, Carol took off her coat and settled back into the couch. “It just doesn’t stop. I keep thinking… maybe we’ve seen it all. What we’ve been through. What we’ve done.” 

She stared down at her hands. They were weathered, crossed with deep lines. They reminded her of animal hide, creased and worn. It occurred to her that there had been a time when she paid attention to what her skin looked like. She hardly remembered that person anymore. 

Daryl was thoughtful. He mumbled something that sounded like ‘yup.’ She glanced over at him. His hair was curled around his face, half obscuring it, eyes lit by the flames. She looked away. 

“Me ‘n’ Aaron. We’re gonna go lookin’ for their camp,” he said. 

She turned back towards him. “When are you leaving?” she asked. 

“Soon’s we hear what the girl has to say,” he replied. 

The fire was crackling now, the sound reminiscent of comfort that Carol barely felt. She slouched down and leaned against Daryl, head on his shoulder. She could feel his steadiness, solid and comforting. He pulled his arm out from between them and let it rest around her, hand settling on her arm. They were silent for a long time. She closed her eyes and imagined that she could still see the fire dancing behind her eyelids. The combination of the continuous patter of rain and Daryl’s solid presence soothed her into a sense of peace. She was asleep before she knew it. 


	4. Shiver the Whole Night Through

**CLEMENTINE**

The roaring in her ears slowly shifted into a steady metallic rumble. Her body was rocking slightly, and a cool breeze drifted over her skin. Clementine opened her eyes and found that she was lying on her side in a freight train. The clack of the wheels against the track and the sway of the freight container gave her the odd sense of déjà vu. She saw the trees whipping by, the golden slant of the setting sun giving the Georgia landscape an ethereal quality, and, abruptly, she realized she had been here before.

“Hey, sweet pea,” said a familiar voice - a rich baritone filled with kindness and affection. Her breath caught, and she swiftly pushed herself into a sitting position, blinking through the sunlight and peering around. Lee was there, crouched down next to her, whole and alive - with a small smile on his face and soft eyes.

“Lee,” Clementine all but gasped as she fell forward against him and held on tightly. She knew this couldn’t be real, but his arms squeezed around her and enveloped her with warmth. His solid shoulders gave her a sense of security, and all at once she felt like a little girl again. She took comfort in his embrace, as she had when she was eight years old. He had been her protector when the world had fallen apart, after her parents were gone and the dead started walking. He had shown her how to survive in a world that no longer made sense.

Even as the countryside streamed by, it was like time was suspended while they embraced. A growing dread welled up in her throat; she recognized that this wasn’t real. Lee was dead, _she had killed him_ , and she was a much different person than the one he had known. Which meant… “Lee… am I…?” He pulled back from her but kept his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. His smile broadened.

“No, Clem. You’ve got a lot more living yet.” Suffocating panic knotted in her chest and she forced herself to take a few slow, steadying breaths. Lee frowned as he looked on. “You want to tell me what’s going on, Clementine?” There were tears welling in her eyes, and all at once shame clenched in her gut.

“I let everyone down. I lost A.J. I… ” Images flashed through her mind - Louis, his eyes lifeless, open and unseeing. Ruby’s frantic struggle and Carter’s ruthless cruelty. Violet’s screams resounded through it all, weaving the ugly visuals together. She met Lee’s eyes. “People I cared about are dead. Someone I loved…” and she choked out a sob then, even as she willed herself to hold back her tears. Lee was shaking his head slowly.

“I’m so sorry, Clem.” He squeezed her shoulders and let time pass while she steadied her breathing. “You’ve got to do me a favor though.” She met his gaze; his eyes were kind, even as they held a profound sorrow that mirrored her own. “Promise me you won’t let yourself get lost in the what ifs. It’s the toughest thing in the world to lead people, to keep them safe.” He gave a mild chuckle. “Hell, I had no idea what I was doing half the time.”

She was startled. In her memory, he had always known the right thing to do, the way to keep everyone safe. Even when she had been so scared, he had kept her grounded and calm. She hadn’t imagined for a moment that he had been anything but sure of himself.

“But… you always seemed, I don’t know, like everything came so easily for you. You always knew what to do,” she said. 

Now he looked genuinely amused, and a little surprised himself. “Well, that’s a relief to hear, Clem. Mostly, it was like I was walking around blindfolded in the dark. I second guessed everything.” He hesitated. “I felt like I was responsible for everyone who didn’t make it.” He shook his head slightly. “That ate away at me. The guilt. So many times, I thought about giving up.”

They sat in silence for a time, as she took in all that he had said to her. She thought about all the people she had met along the way; all the people who had died trying to keep her alive. A dull ache hardened in her chest, her grief tightening until she thought she wouldn’t be able to breathe. A tear silently slipped down her cheek. He gently reached out and brushed her face with his thumb.

“Do you remember when we first met? You were up in your tree house, all alone. When that walker attacked me, you saved my life. I kept thinking, how did this little girl find the strength to do that? How does she have the strength to go on? Your parents were gone, the world had turned cold and dead.” Lee was studying her with admiration and pride. “Thinking about that gave me strength.”

He put a steady hand on her shoulder. “Clementine. This isn’t the end.”

Clementine closed her eyes and dropped her head, and her tears came in earnest. Silently, her entire body pulled taut against all of her pain, regret, shame, and loss. She didn’t know how long she was curled down into herself. When her tears dried and her body stopped shaking and all that she heard was the continuous rumble of the train on the tracks, she looked up. Lee was gone. Softly, as if drifting in through the open freight doors, his voice reached her.

 _This isn’t the end_.

****

Clementine became aware of the heaviness in her body a breath before the pain asserted itself. She groaned and immediately noticed how thick and swollen her throat was. It was as if hands were circling her entire neck and compressing. Her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked rapidly as they took in the light. Soft light. Clean white walls and ceiling. She struggled to push herself to her elbows and gasped with pain. Her body screamed at her and she relented, settling back down and panting slightly. She had never felt anything as overwhelming as this.

She opened her eyes and saw a man hovering above her and recoiled before she registered the softness in his eyes. He had dark skin and a very substantial beard. She had never seen him before. Something like panic rose to her throat before she took in what he was saying.

“… okay, you’re safe, everything is going to be okay…” and she didn’t believe him, she couldn’t, as all the pain in her body led her back to that cage; forced to see Ruby tortured, hearing Violet’s cries echoing from her cell. Feeling Carter’s weight crushing her body, his hands wrapped around her throat, his foul breath on her face. _I’ll break you yet_.

Adrenaline coursed through her. She pushed up and back, pressed herself against the wall and reached with her right hand, grasped for whatever she could find. The man held his hands up, saying something, “Clementine, you’re hurt, you need to rest,” and _how does he know my name_ her fingers brushed something, cool glass, and she wrapped her hand around it and hurled it as hard as she could at him. Something splashed on her and glass shattered and she saw that he had hunched down just in time.

A woman approached out of nowhere at her side, a woman with a scar just below her right eye, and Clementine looked wildly to her left and right, sought something else to use as a weapon as hands pushed her shoulders down and held her still.

Clementine struggled in her firm grasp, the pain an incessant reminder that she needed to _get out, to go_ , and suddenly the man was on her other side injecting something into an IV that she only then noticed in her arm. Clementine went limp - knew that it was pointless to fight. She was shaking with apprehension, her frantic panting sent sharp stabs of pain to her throat. She forced herself to concentrate on her breathing and slow down. Her body hurt, and she knew they were both studying her and she no longer cared. As her breathing paced out, she felt herself getting heavy again. Exhaustion overwhelmed her. She closed her eyes.

****

Slowly, as if emerging from a thick fog, she heard the murmur of conversation and the sound of a door opening and closing. Awareness of her body asserted itself next; a general deep soreness permeated her muscles and bones. She imagined this is how it would feel after being hit by a car. Her throat was thick and throbbing.

Her pulse quickened when noticed the light pressure of someone’s hand on hers and her eyes snapped open. She blinked against the light, thought that she must be hallucinating when she saw the person beside her. The hallucination smiled as tears rolled down her face. Her blond hair was clean, the left side of her face and eye were a faded purple color. Her clear, green eyes were holding hers.

“Clem,” Violet said.

For a moment, Clementine didn’t know what to do. Violet’s palm in hers felt real. She stared at those eyes and her heart pulled tight in her chest. She tried to talk, but ended up croaking something unintelligible. Violet reached across her and then there was a glass of water held up to her lips, and she was coaxing her to drink. The thickness in her throat as she swallowed ached so much, even as the cool water was a balm for her thirst. Violet _it’s her? I’m awake and Violet is alive?_ put the glass back on the side table, wiped at her face with her hand, and smiled broadly.

“Violet?” Her voice cracked, and she winced. 

Violet’s expression faltered. “Shh, Clem. It’s okay.” 

She reached for her hand again. Clementine saw that Violet’s right arm was in a brace and sling. She gently forced herself into a sitting position, every muscle in her body groaning in response. Something stiff pulled against her cheeks – she brushed the rough texture of a bandage with her fingertips. There was an IV in her left arm releasing a steady drip of fluids. She turned back to Violet, squeezed her hand and smiled.

“You’re here,” Clementine murmured. Violet smiled again, and her heart expanded. Just as she croaked out “how?”, a man approached her left side. The same man from before – beard, soft eyes, dark skin. She flinched back and her pulse jumped. Violet reached out and put her palm against her face, coaxed her to meet her eyes. Startling green eyes anchored her, steadied her heart.

“It’s alright, he’s a doctor,” Violet said. “He’s helping us.”

“My name’s Siddiq,” the man said, “I’m just here to take your vitals, and then you can rest.” Clementine looked to Violet, who nodded at her. As Siddiq worked, Violet kept Clementine’s hand clutched in hers. She tried to speak, ended up croaking out something that sounded like water. Violet brought the glass to her lips again.

“I’ll get you something for the inflammation and pain,” Siddiq began, “For now, try not to talk too much.” Clementine looked at Violet, her eyebrows knitted with concern.

“Clem, you should rest.”

She shook her head. “Violet… how?”

Violet grew uneasy. She searched Clementine’s face.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” Violet said. Clementine shook her head, her message clear. _Yes, we do_. Violet sighed and nodded.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” Violet began, her voice quavered a little as she spoke. She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts. “One of them helped me escape. It was after… Ruby. After they put me in the cell and… ” she gestured vaguely towards herself. “I didn’t know how bad I was. I thought I could find a way back in, get you and the others out.” There was heartache in her eyes, and Clementine could practically feel Violet’s exhaustion.

“A couple of walkers came at me. I… I didn’t have a weapon… I couldn’t fight them off. More and more followed, and I was pushed further away.” She paused again. “These people found me. Brought me here. They found you and Aasim.” Clementine nodded.

Willy hadn’t made it, then. The knowledge that all of her friends were dead filled her with so much shame and grief, her stomach roiled with nausea. It was her fault, and she wondered how Violet could even look at her.

Then, she found Violet’s steady gaze, and what she saw caused her breath to catch. Violet’s soft eyes were filled with affection, and Clementine’s heart felt like it was expanding against her ribcage. They sat in silence while Siddiq came back with medication. Clementine just stared at her hand in Violet’s. She could barely believe it was real.

She had been positive that Violet had died and even now still felt the pain of that loss. Clementine thought back to the hours she spent alone in her cell, regret and shame being her only company. She glanced at Violet’s face and only saw her beauty, despite her injuries.

Siddiq left with a gentle ‘let me know if you need anything.’ Clementine looked around, saw that she was in some sort of clinic. There were several beds, medical equipment. Aasim was lying in a bed opposite her, sleeping. He was badly beaten.

She was dressed in unfamiliar loose-fitting clothes. There were dark bruises and bandages all over her arms. Violet looked like she didn’t know what to do with herself.

“Clem… they wanted me to ask you what happened… at the end. If you have any idea where they went?” Clementine saw Violet’s reluctance in the way she shifted her body and her eyes. She reflected back, struggled to remember what had happened before she woke up. All at once, the icy wall of her cell sent a chill down her spine. She remembered her arms strained above her in shackles, his hot breath on her neck…

She closed her eyes and shuddered, shook her head. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest.

“I… I can’t…” and Violet was instantly soothing her, whispering to her it’s okay, just breathe. Her hand smoothed her hair back over her face and brushed her cheek. Clementine took an unsteady breath, held it a beat, then exhaled slowly.

After several deep breaths, her pulse slowed, and she found she could focus on being present. She closed her eyes against her tears - willed herself not to cry.

“I’m here, Clem.”

Those quiet words, the simple fact that Violet was alive, that they were both alive, nearly overwhelmed her. She almost gasped with the wave of gratitude that swelled her chest. She nodded, grasped Violet’s hand tighter. Violet smiled gently in return.

****

Clementine blinked awake. The steady patter of rain and the subdued hum of generators disoriented her as she took in her surroundings. Her throat was bloated and thick, throbbing with each breath she took. Wincing, she eased herself into a seated position. Violet and Aasim were sleeping. The soft grey light of morning filled the clinic, and she realized she must have slept through the night.

The door to the office opened, and the doctor entered the room. Clementine stiffened even as she told herself that he wasn’t a threat. She took a couple of calming breaths as he approached.

“Morning,” he said quietly, “how’d you sleep?” She met his gaze and noted the softness of his manner. She forced herself to relax.

“Okay,” she rasped, wincing again at the searing pain in her throat.

He held out a couple of pills. “These’ll help.” She nodded her thanks and swallowed the pain medication. “I’ll be back to check on you later,” he said, before heading back to his office.

Clementine was so drained. Even after all of those years on the road, alone with A.J., surviving day to day, she had never been as worn down and raw as she was now. It was frustrating and, if she were being sincere with herself, a bit humiliating. She prided herself on her capacities and strength; feeling so broken down and fragile filled her with irritation and shame.

Violet muttered something in her sleep, and Clementine turned her attention to her. She warmed as she regarded Violet’s sculpted features, softened with sleep. Her heart was full. She couldn’t entirely believe she had met someone that she connected with so quickly. She was attracted to Violet in ways that she never thought were possible, and it was both frightening and exhilarating all at once.

The door to the clinic opened. A bitter chill swept through the space before it was closed again. She observed as a woman stepped in – slight, with close cropped platinum hair. The woman took her coat off and walked straight towards Clementine. She stiffened, even though the woman’s expression was mild.

“Okay if I sit?” the woman asked. Clementine regarded her cautiously. She was hardly able to say no, but was surprised by how polite the woman was. She nodded. As the woman lowered herself into the chair by her bed, she introduced herself. “My name’s Carol.”

Clementine knew that name. Carol was one of the people who had found her and brought her here. She softened.

“You found me and Aasim,” she stated, and grimaced with pain. Her voice was hoarse and grating. 

Carol nodded gently. “Me and a few others, yes.” 

Clementine looked over at Violet and watched the continuous rise and fall of her chest. She was abruptly filled with gratitude.

“Thank you,” she whispered. She pushed herself into an upright position. The pain in her body throbbed, and she frowned and sucked in several deep breaths.

“I can get you something for the pain,” Carol suggested. Clementine shook her head as she took another steadying breath.

“The doctor brought me something,” she croaked. She saw Carol look her over and felt mild irritation at the weakness of her body. She hated appearing weak in unfamiliar situations. When Carol spoke, her voice was soft, almost reluctant.

“I need to ask you about Delta.” Clementine winced and closed her eyes, but nodded slowly. She knew that this would come, but that didn’t make the prospect of talking about it any easier. “We need to know if you have any idea where they went. If you heard anything that gives you any ideas.” Recollections of the cold, concrete floor tightened something in her gut, but she willed herself to concentrate on the present - willed herself away from that pain.

“Why?” she whispered.

There was no hesitation in Carol’s response. “We’re going to stop them.”

Clementine opened her eyes sharply, met Carol’s gaze and felt a surge of hope. If this group were going after Delta, she would have a chance at finding A.J.

Thoughts of A.J. in Delta’s captivity made her stomach churn. A.J. had adopted her own tenacity, and she knew from bitter experience that Delta wouldn’t tolerate anyone who defied their rules. The things they could have done to him caused her heart to drop right into her stomach, and abruptly, her hope was replaced with worry and dread. She forced herself to respond.

“I think… I think they’re on the river, up north. Or somewhere close by.” She winced at the pain in her throat, but wanted to get this conversation over with. “They were talking about boats… fortifications. Staging more outposts as the river headed to the ocean.” She cleared her throat and shook her head. She grasped the glass of water next to her and took a couple of sips. The cool liquid soothed the ache briefly before the pain throbbed again.

“Is there anything else you can tell me about them?” Carol asked, gently. Clementine fixed her gaze on the surface beyond Carol’s shoulder, visions of the cell flashing in her mind’s eye. She remembered the physical pain, but it was the emotional anguish of experiencing Violet’s death that made her heart grow cold and her body tense.

“Nothing that you already don’t know,” she replied. Carol looked pensive, somber. She nodded once and got to her feet, glancing over at Violet. Clementine’s heart leapt into her throat and she couldn’t stop the spasm of worry and outrage that coursed through her. Clementine rationally knew that there was no need to have her hackles up; she saw no hostility in Carol’s gaze. If anything, she detected a hint of melancholy as she considered Violet. Clementine forced herself to breathe.

Carol gave Clementine a slight smile and thanked her.

She watched Carol go – donning her jacket before heading outside. When the door closed, she became aware again of the steady thrumming of rainfall outside. The medication was settling in; her body still hurt, but the pain became a tolerable dull background ache. She turned towards Violet and observed the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. She thought about everyone they had lost from Ericson’s, thought about A.J. Her heart constricted and she drew a couple of slow, deep breaths.

Her thoughts strayed to her conversation with Carol. The woman didn’t look like much, but Clementine knew better than most that looks were often deceiving. While observing her, she had noticed a gravity, a strength that was fortified by something bleak, some pain or loss. She wasn’t surprised. Most people alive today carried some kind of emotional burden around. There was undeniably something fierce in Carol, capable and shrewd. She’d have to pay attention to her. If they were going to find Delta, she would persuade them to let her go with them. She was going to find A.J.

****

The days blurred together for Clementine. The pain in her body would ebb and flow along the tides of her medication. Her throat still hurt, but it wasn’t nearly as inflamed as it had been. Aasim was gradually coming out of his shock. While not talking often, he could focus more. His right tibia was fractured, and while he was in a lot of pain from that, his other injuries were comparatively minor.

Violet seemed to have much more stamina than before. The swelling on her face was down, leaving only deep smudges of color on her otherwise pale skin.

Clementine was resting in bed, trying to maintain deep and even breaths. She had never realized how physically debilitating panic attacks were. Now that she had experienced one, she tried her hardest to prevent it from happening again. While she was trying to keep her thoughts away from that cell, the door to the clinic opened. Cold air rushed inside even as the woman was closing the door behind her.

She was lithe, dark-skinned, with closely coiled dreadlocks flowing past her shoulders. One side of her head was shaved. She talked with the doctor, then made her way over to Clementine. The coat she wore was several sizes too big for her, made of worn brown suede with a white quilted collar. Clementine and Violet looked on as the woman pulled out a chair and sat down. Aasim was sleeping.

Clementine straightened unconsciously. Aside from the one visit from Carol, she hadn’t spoken to anyone but the doctor and his assistants. The woman didn’t say anything; she was just looking them over. While not cold, she was distinctly not extending any hint of friendliness.

“I’m Michonne,” she said. “I need to ask you a few questions.” Clementine heard Violet shift slightly. _Well_ , Clementine thought, _she cuts to the chase_. “Have you ever come across a group of people who wear walker skins?” Clementine shifted her eyes away and met Violet’s. Her face was set and guarded, lips curved into a frown.

“I have,” she said, turning back to Michonne, whose expression became dark. “Just one person.” She remembered her mounting fear during her flight from Lilly. More and more walkers had surrounded her and A.J., and she had been concentrating on dispatching as many of the dead as she possible. She remembered the sheer terror that had coursed through her the moment a walker grabbed her arm and spoke to her. “We were being chased by Delta – and he, James, sent a herd of walkers to stop them. He brought us to safety while they were distracted.” Michonne looked at her, arms still crossed over her chest. Clementine reciprocated her steely gaze, already fatigued with this encounter.

“And that’s it? You’ve never seen the others?” Michonne asked.

“James left his community when they attacked another. He’d been on his own for a while,” she added.

Michonne’s expression was stony. “Where is he now?” 

Clementine was becoming exasperated. “He had a camp close to our school – he’s there, or he’s not,” she said, curtly. She returned the woman’s expression. Michonne nodded to herself, glanced at Violet and Aasim, and stood up. They watched as she opened the door and left.

Violet snorted. “Fucking charmer.”

****

The chill seemed to seep all the way into her bones, the concrete almost burning her skin. Clementine couldn’t see anything; the room she was in was windowless, the lights were out. She was alone. Outside the door, she heard whimpering; further beyond, men were laughing together. The sounds were distorted, hollow, as if echoing through a metal chamber.

She blinked and shifted a little. She realized they had bound her wrists. There was a dull thump, followed by a grunt of pain and a moan. Someone gasped for air, followed by what sounded like another blow. Clementine struggled to her feet, heart in her throat, and pressed her ear to the door. A man chuckled.

“What’s the matter, girlie?” a man’s taunting voice, “Didn’t like the show?” Clementine’s throat hitched. She heard Violet’s voice, ragged and harsh – out of breath and edged with pain.

“Fuck you.”

There were sounds of a struggle, then a resounding crack - it reminded Clementine of a snapping branch – and then her heart shattered as Violet howled in agony. Frantically, she started pounding on the door.

“Violet! Vi! Leave her alone! Leave her the _fuck_ alone!” Something smashed into the door, making it rattle and sending her staggering backwards.

“Fucking cunt,” he growled, “You’ll get yours.” His footsteps faded a few paces. “Where d’ya think yer going, blondie?” There was another thump and what sounded like someone collapsing, accompanied by a sharp gasp of pain and strained panting. It just seemed to go on and on. Clementine was standing, her body was shaking, her own unconscious whimpers drowned out by the endless grunts and blows. Her throat was tight; she couldn’t breathe.

“Violet… god, no… no…”

Then there was a firm hand on her shoulder and she gasped and her eyes snapped open and there was so much light. She sucked in air with erratic heaves. Her heart was pounding and dimly she was aware of a voice and she tried concentrating on that as she gasped and trembled. Pain washed in over the remaining fragments of her dream; her clothes clung to her skin and she could not catch her breath. Violet leaned over her, her eyebrows knit with concern, and Clementine tried desperately to focus.

“Shh, Clementine, it’s okay, it’s okay… I need you to breathe for me, okay? Deep breaths, come on, just breathe,” Violet intoned. Clementine tried to keep her gaze on Violet’s. She let herself lose focus as she stared into her eyes. Slowly, she mastered herself sufficiently to get her breathing under control. She took in a deep, shaky breath, held it, and slowly let it out.

Violet was leading. She was taking slow, full breaths and keeping Clementine’s eyes locked on hers. Clementine’s pounding heart slowed to a flutter. Violet kept pace.

Eventually she was matching Violet’s breaths and slowly becoming aware of the present. Her body was shivering lightly. Violet reached over and brought a small towel across her face, wiping away the sweat.

Clementine looked at her; she took in her sharp features and the dark bruises on her face. A deep helplessness crawled out of her dream and settled in her gut. Tears welled in her eyes and her heart grew heavy. A flash of alarm crossed Violet’s features just before sobs wracked Clementine’s body.

Violet climbed onto the bed with her. She pulled her into her arms and held her as she broke down, her face pressed into the crook of Violet’s neck. Her body heaved, everything ached, and the ferocity of her grief overwhelmed her.

The belief that she had lost Violet had dulled and muted all the things Carter had done to her. The apathy had been a comfort, in a twisted way. It had numbed her from the physical and emotional trauma of what he did to her.

There was so much that she wanted to experience with Violet, and so much relief that she had the chance. Yet, the pain twisting in her throat was reminding her she could lose her, she could actually lose her again.

She clutched onto Violet and felt her hand stroking her back. They lay like that for some time – Clementine shaking and weeping, Violet holding on tight. Her sobs eventually turned into low whimpers. The tightness in her chest relaxed, her heart was a dull, throbbing, ache. She was exhausted, hollowed out.

Violet’s voice lifted softly in the first few refrains from a song - almost as if from far away. It was delicate; so bright and clear compared to the normal rasp of her voice. Her chest rose and fell with each verse, and Clementine closed her eyes. She held on to that voice while the steady movement of Violet’s chest anchored her. Her breathing becoming slow and even as she drifted off to sleep.

_Little girl, little girl, don’t lie to me  
Tell me where did you sleep last night  
In the pines, in the pines  
Where the sun never shines  
We’ll shiver the whole night through_

__

_You’ve caused me to weep  
You’ve caused me to mourn  
You’ve caused me to lose my home_

__

_Little girl, little girl  
Where’d you sleep last night  
Not even your mother knows  
In the pines, in the pines  
Where the sun never shines  
We’ll shiver when a cold wind blows_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Violet sings to Clementine is an American folk song with many different iterations. The version she sings is taken directly from Telltale's The Walking Dead video game. Fun fact - one of the designers of the game was chosen to sing it! You can also find Nirvana singing a version on their MTV unplugged album. Here's a link to the version I highlight. 
> 
> [In the Pines - Janel Drewis](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D6Yj0TC4BJs&ab_channel=xdragondavyx)


	5. Falling Together

So, they did bad things? Why?

Okay, um, sometimes they do them because bad things happened to them. I knew a doctor once, back when you were just a baby. He called it trauma. You have some too, you know. The thing where people can’t walk up behind you?

I don’t like my trauma. I want to get it off me. How do I get rid of it? I don’t even like the way the word sounds.

It doesn’t work like that. It’s too deep down inside you. It never goes away.

That sucks.

But you can resist it, just like anger. It’s really, really hard to do by yourself. A lot of people can’t without some help.

****

The first thing Clementine noticed was how dried out and swollen her face was. Memories of her dream and subsequent panic swept her consciousness, followed by a spasm of shame. She remembered Violet with her, guiding her through it. She remembered holding her.

The next thing she realized was that she was still in Violet’s arms. Her head lay in the crook of her shoulder, and the steady rise and fall of her chest indicated that she was asleep. 

They had never been this close before. Apart from that one kiss they had shared on top of the bell tower, Violet’s tentative hand holding hers, they hadn’t had the opportunity.

Her length pressed up against Violet, leg was curled along hers. She had her arm draped across her stomach. Violet was lanky, her hips were compact and straight - so different from the curves of her own body. She studied Violet’s face, soft in sleep. Despite the marks that colored her skin, she looked so peaceful. Clementine could study her features all day. Wonder filled her again – at how incredible it was that they had found each other in this ravaged world. It amazed her that they were both alive. 

The pain in her throat was acute. She eased herself off of Violet as gently as she could and reached for water, letting the cool liquid coat her throat. When she turned back Violet was watching her. She was anxious of what she might find in her eyes - disappointment, or, worse; pity. Violet just gave her a light smile, her eyes soft. She cleared her throat and suddenly looked nervous. 

“I, um…” Violet began, dropping her gaze down at her hands. She furrowed her eyebrows together, then met Clementine’s eyes again. “I hope it was okay… that I stayed in your bed. I, uh… I just didn’t want to wake you.” Clementine had a solid knot in her stomach and shame burned her cheeks. She couldn’t hold Violet’s gaze, and she sat up straighter and looked down at her own hands. She was so used to being in control of her emotions, so comfortable being strong. What happened made her feel like her body betrayed her, like she let herself down; like she let Violet down. 

“I’m… really sorry,” Clementine said, “I don’t know, I’ve just been having these breathing attacks, this panic and- " Violet sat up straighter and she reached out to stroke her back.

Violet gently coaxed Clementine against her. "Hey, hey... c'mere." Her arms wrapped around her and Clementine took a deep, shaky breath, pushing herself to quiet her anxiety. “It’s okay, Clem.” 

The strength of Violet’s arms relaxed her, and she was filled with gratitude for her patience. The sun was rising, she saw. Dawn breaking into another day. 

****

Siddiq spoke with them all about leaving the clinic. They were going to settle in Carol’s house, as she wasn’t sharing the space with anyone else at the moment. Clementine felt secure with that choice, and after checking in with Violet and Aasim, confirmed that they would be fine with the move. He said that they’d be fit to leave as early as tomorrow, but Aasim would require a few more days in the clinic. The doctor then encouraged Clementine and Violet to get out of the clinic for a little while, so they donned clothes and did just that. 

Clementine was pleased to find that they had her leather jacket and cargo pants. She was disappointed when she didn’t see her baseball cap. That had been the one thing she had kept from before the turn, the one physical link to her past and to her parents. She fought back her distress and told herself that she had been lucky to have it as long as she did. Clementine noticed that Violet stood a little taller after she put her battered denim vest on. 

After assuring Aasim that they would report back, they stepped out into the chilly October air. Neither one of them recalled their journey to the clinic, and they stood side by side, marveling at the size of the community.

To Clementine, it looked like an apocalyptic suburban dream. Enormous houses, albeit identically designed, dappled curved lanes that meandered through the community’s green spaces. In the distance, Clementine saw steel walls rising in all directions, wooden scaffolding creating a rampart. She spotted guards pacing, rifles and bows in hand as they scanned the surrounding area. 

The clinic was set apart from the residential homes, evidently part of the newer construction surrounding them. Signs of expansion were everywhere; scaffolded buildings and half erected frames raw against the unified construction of pre-turn civilization. Clementine saw two large greenhouses, what looked like community gardens, a windmill. She couldn’t help but be impressed, despite all of her negative experiences with larger communities. 

“Fuck,” Violet said, almost under her breath. Clementine grinned and glanced over at her. Violet was wide-eyed as she turned around on the spot slowly. “I thought we had an alright thing at the school, but this is some next level shit.” Clementine hummed in agreement. She led them on a slow walk around the clinic, taking in the sights and watching so many people going about their business. Clementine couldn’t even guess how many people lived there. Thirty-five? Seventy? A hundred and fifty? 

“Clem?” Caught up in her reflections, Clementine hadn’t realized that Violet had trailed behind. She turned, saw that Violet’s features were pulled into a frown, her hands shoved deep in her pockets. “I… keep thinking about where we’re gonna go… after we find A.J. and Tenn.” The look in her eyes was distant, her expression somber. 

Clementine’s heart tightened and she reminded herself that while she lost what she was considering as a safe place to live, Violet had lost everything. Ericson’s – and everyone there – had been all she had known since the start. It had been her home. After all the devastation, suffering, fear, and cruelty Clementine had witnessed and endured over the last eight years, she found herself hardened in the face of yet another loss - all that mattered to her was finding A.J. 

Except that wasn’t all that mattered to her anymore. Violet had shown Clementine that there was more to life than just surviving. Hope and love weren’t just bedtime stories that you tell yourself so you could fall asleep at night. Violet had given her an opportunity to explore parts of herself that she didn’t even realize she had. She had given her the ability to experience things that Clementine had never imagined. Her heart ached for Violet. Her slender form was hunched into itself, shedding all of her protective layers of sarcasm and grit. She appeared young and hopeless. Her loss and loneliness wrapped around her thin frame heavily. 

Clementine didn’t know what to do to help her, didn’t know what words she had to offer as comfort. The only thing she knew was that they would find solutions, together. Somehow, that knowledge made it possible for her to imagine something more for them. 

“We’re going to figure it out. You and me.” Violet met her gaze, and the silvers and greys in her crystalline green eyes briefly distracted Clementine. There was a flicker of hope there, and she thought she saw a slight shift of Violet’s body drawing nearer. She held her eyes, wanting so much to just reach out and hold her, but uncertain how to initiate that contact. “It’s always going to be you and me,” she said, softly. 

Violet’s eyebrows furrowed. She turned her attention to her boots and shifted slightly. Clementine’s heart was heavy and full. The seconds dragged long, long enough for her to start questioning herself. She had experienced nothing like this before, and she worried that maybe she had said too much. Not enough? Maybe they meant very different things to one another and where Clementine found hope in Violet, perhaps Violet looked at Clementine and thought only of the others she had lost. 

Violet looked up and met her eyes again, a soft smile tugging at her lips. Relief swept through Clementine, and she let out a long breath. The burden that was pulling Violet down seemed to have lifted. There was a palpable warmth in her gaze as she leaned towards Clementine and placed a small, soft kiss on her lips. It was over almost as soon as it began, but Clementine’s lips burned with the sensation and she grinned, elated to see Violet’s full smile matching her own. Her face flushed, and she ducked her head. She reached out and took Violet’s hand in hers, and they finished their walk in silence. 

****

The next day, they made their way to Carol’s house. They walked in silence, and Clementine’s nerves wore thin with each step. Carol was opening the front door of her house as they climbed the few stairs to her porch. She ushered Violet and Clementine inside, the cold trailing after them before she shut the door. Clementine paused in the entryway, eyes a little wide, gazing around at the spacious living area. Violet started wandering in little circles, taking it all in. 

Carol brushed by them, towards the kitchen. “I’ll give you two a minute and then I can show you around.” 

Clementine tried to take it all in. The open plan living room was spacious and bright. Modern fixtures and clean surfaces looked so out of place to her. She was used to everything from before the turn being worn down, broken, picked over or destroyed. The clean lines and sparkling surfaces made her dizzy. It was as if she had somehow wandered into the past; like the last eight years of her life had never been.

“Holy shit…” Violet breathed. Clementine barely heard her. Her heart was pounding in her throat and she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. 

Carol walked back into the living room with three steaming mugs in her hands. She sat down in an armchair and set the mugs down. 

“Coffee?” she asked. The earthy aroma jolted Clementine out of her disorientation, the beverage beckoned her. She sat down on the couch and sent Carol a small smile as she brought the mug to her lips. Her nerves settled with the first sip. Violet, distracted, sat down next to Clementine, her keen eyes darting around the space.

Violet reached for her mug. “What is this place?” 

“Alexandria was a planned community before the turn,” Carol began. “It had its own power grid supplied by solar energy, its own cisterns and filtration systems. Totally set up for luxurious suburban isolation,” she said, with a wry smile. “At the start, the National Guard had been shifting people here as part of a safe zone before bringing them to the larger D.C. area. When the Guard didn’t return, the people living here built the walls.” Carol shrugged a shoulder. “I was just as shocked by it as you are.” That got Clementine’s attention. 

“You weren’t here from the start?” Clementine asked. Carol gave her a ghost of a smile as she shook her head. 

“No. We were out there for years before finding this place. Had to fight for it - had to teach the people here to fight for it.” 

Clementine mulled that over. Her first impression of Carol had been correct. There was clearly a lot more beneath the surface than the older woman let on, and her curiosity was piqued. Even as she tried to focus on the warmth of the coffee, her eyes wouldn’t settle - they shifted over furniture and granite countertops and bookshelves. She was still having a hard time adjusting to the surreal environment she found herself in. Carol placed her mug on the coffee table.

“Let me show you around,” she said, standing up. Clementine was on her feet, and she followed along dutifully as Carol led them through the house. She showed them the kitchen, the garage, the first-floor bedroom with a half bathroom. Upstairs, there was a master bedroom, Carol’s room, and a full bathroom. Carol’s monotone as she showed them around was barely registering. Clementine couldn’t help but stare at the surfaces. They paused just at the top of the staircase, by the master bedroom. 

“Make yourselves comfortable in either of the empty rooms,” Carol said. “I know this is a lot. I've got a shift on the wall. If you’re up to it later, I'll take you to our marketplace and you can get yourself some more clothes, some weapons. Show you around the community.” She gave them a soft smile and headed downstairs. 

Clementine watched her retreating figure and was vaguely aware of Violet walking off. Her heart twisted in her chest as she thought of A.J. He had never seen anything like this. She imagined how excited he would be, could almost see the look of wonder on his face as he explored room after room.

“Clementine.” There was sharp urgency in Violet’s voice, which snapped her out of her reverie. She found Violet in the bathroom. 

“Vi?” 

Violet turned on the faucet and water poured out. A slow smile spread over her face. 

“Hot water.” 

****

Clementine stared at herself in the mirror. The reflection looking back stunned her. The scars running down her face _alright tough girl if you’re not gonna cry for me_ were dark on her pale skin, the lines angled from the corners of both eyes. Her neck was a mess – still dark with his fingerprints all over it. Her eyes were the most shocking to her – cold and dull. She recalled what A.J. had said once about how people’s eyes looked right when they died - like someone blew out a candle. The thing was, she wasn’t dead yet. 

She turned on the shower and started stripping off her clothes. There were a myriad of dark patches on her breasts and stomach; burns twisted into her skin. She ran a hand down her body and across all of her fresh scars. 

Her breath caught when she saw her hips and thighs. The blues and purples and blacks were so deep that, perversely, she thought of that night on the bell tower, the last night she had shared with Violet at Ericson’s. 

She remembered staring up at the stunning night sky painted with blues and blacks of all variations and shades. She had been completely attuned to Violet’s proximity. Her body had been humming with pinpricks of electricity and the air had been weighted with everything unsaid between them. She remembered holding her breath as Violet took her hand and traced constellations in the sky. 

Her throat twisted up and anger flushed her chest. She was losing something beautiful, a moment that was hers, a rare moment in her life of feeling safe, of feeling hope. Her eyes snapped shut as she clenched her jaw. She pulled that night sky away and clutched it, cradled it. _You don’t get to take this,_ she thought. 

But she didn’t recognize her body. 

The room filled with steam, and she dragged herself in under the hot spray. The water pulled her back to the present as warmth seeped into her skin all the way to her bones. She found herself grateful for the sensory overload. Grabbing the soap and a washcloth, she let the hot spray pound into the weary muscles of her shoulders while she lathered her skin. She scrubbed the soap in her hair and rinsed. Despite the clinic’s care, her hair was filthy. Blood and dirt mingled at her feet before swirling down the drain. 

She stood under the hot spray long after the soap rinsed off, looking down at her body. She thought back to Javier’s awkward explanation to her about her period. _Basically, all this means is you could be a mom, if you wanted._ She thought about that woman Rosita, holding pills in her hand. _These would just be a precaution, but you get to decide._ She was suddenly back in that cell, Carter’s weight crushing her, her cheek pressed into the cold, unyielding concrete floor.

_Stop._

She braced her arms against the tile and hung her head while letting the water sluice down her back. She was exhausted, hollow. She turned off the water. 

**** 

She found Violet downstairs, sitting on the couch, gaze distant and vague, eyebrows furrowed. When she saw her, she gave a small smile. 

“Was it amazing?” Violet asked. 

Clementine forced herself to grin back at her. “The water felt great.” 

Violet quickly got to her feet, and they both walked upstairs. Clementine heard the door to the bathroom shut and the water turn on. Exhaustion was overtaking her. Her body still ached, and she found herself in the master bedroom sinking into the bed. The softness enveloped her as she stared up at the ceiling. It couldn’t have been noon yet. 

The patter from the shower soothed her. Her recollections of life before the turn were hazy, but sometimes a specific sound or smell triggered a memory. The impression that she was safe came to her. She didn’t know if it was a memory from before, when she was eight years old and with her parents and there were no walking dead, or if she felt that way now. She closed her eyes as weariness seeped into her bones. She was so tired. Exhausted. 

As she drifted, some part of her noticed that the shower was still running. She refocused her senses to the present and didn’t hear any telltale noises of sheeting water typical of someone moving around under the spray. She sat up and listened longer. Thought she heard something that sounded like a gasp. Her exhaustion forgotten, her stomach clenched with anxiety, she stepped outside the bathroom door. 

“Vi?” She listened for a response and instead heard what sounded like ragged breathing. “Violet, I’m coming in, okay?” There was no answer, so she pushed the door open a crack. “Vi?” 

She heard the sobs now, the frantic gasping for air. Clementine stepped inside and hesitated. She was unsure of herself; she didn’t know if she should intrude. Thinking about how Violet had talked her down from her panic settled her mind. She crouched down next to the tub. 

“Hey... Vi? I’m here. But if you want me to go, I will.” Clementine waited, eyebrows furrowed, her chest aching with the thought of Violet in such distress.

Amidst the sobs she heard a hitched whispered, _“Don’t.”_

Clementine eased herself down on the bath mat and glimpsed Violet where the shower curtain parted from the wall. She was sitting in the tub, back to the spray of the water, with one arm slung over her knees and the other lying limply at her side. Clementine quickly looked away as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She shook herself internally. _She needs you right now._

She reached in and shut the water off. Violet’s crying, a low whimpered keening, tightened something inside Clementine’s chest. She gently eased the curtain to the side, intent on keeping her eyes on the planes of Violet’s back. Her blonde hair was plastered to her face, forehead pressed against her knees, body shaking with her labored breaths. 

Clementine eased closer, kneeled and, tentatively, wrapped an arm around her. Violet stiffened and she was certain that she had crossed a line. She felt a flash of indecision and doubt, and then Violet eased into her touch. Clementine rested her cheek on her shoulder and pulled her closer. Sobs wracking Violet’s thin frame, every hitched breath shaking her, and then her voice – hoarse and cracking. 

“Th… they’re _dead._ ” Clementine’s throat clenched. “All… dead… I shoulda fucking _done_ something… I… I couldn’t…” and then her voice broke as another round of sobs shuddered out of her chest. 

Clementine, heedless of the water, climbed into the tub with Violet and held on to her as firmly as she could, softly telling her, “shh it’s okay, it’s okay, let it out.” Violet uncurled in Clementine’s arms and pressed herself closer. She tucked her head against her chest and her hand clenched at her side. Trying to be cautious of Violet’s broken arm and ribs, Clementine shifted and wrapped her arms around her, holding her body close, cradling her in her lap. 

She murmured soft words to Violet, her mind racing. It horrified her that Violet thought that she was responsible for their friend’s deaths. If anything, Clementine blamed herself. She should never have put the others at risk, never should have allowed them to go with her.

Clementine was elated that Violet was allowing herself to be vulnerable with her, and she hoped that she was able to give her some comfort. She was also, embarrassingly, keenly conscious of the fact that Violet was very much exposed. It made her uncomfortable that she could be so insensitive. 

She held on to Violet’s quaking body, whispered to her, pressed her lips to her forehead and brow. She didn’t know how long they stayed like that – Clementine holding tight, Violet gasping through her grief. She thought that her heart was breaking with each and every sob. 

Slowly, Violet’s sobs transitioned to a softer crying. Her hand lay limp on Clementine’s hip and her face was twisted in pain. _Christ, her ribs_. Violet’s breathing, still catching now and then, was steadier. 

Clementine shifted them slightly and all her muscles screamed at her in return. Her clothes were damp through. 

“Come on,” she breathed, coaxing Violet to her feet. She grabbed a towel and helped Violet wrap it around her body. Catching a glimpse of her wiry torso, covered with dark colorful bruises, her throat tightened at the thought of Violet receiving the beating that put them there. The stark contrast on her otherwise pale skin made her heart ache.

She helped Violet out of the tub. Her shoulders slumped lower than usual, her face drawn and pale, her eyes hollow. Clementine helped her put the brace back on her arm, caught her wincing at the pain. Coaxed her gently into taking a dose of pain medication before leading her to the bedroom. Violet just let herself be pulled along, and when they reached the bed she got in under the sheets.

Clementine sat down next to her and gently brushed the wet strands of hair off her face before reaching out to hold her hand. Violet’s swollen eyes were staring off at nothing. Clementine looked down at their hands together – both covered with callouses, dark with scar tissue. 

“Clem?” The sound was gruff and ragged. Violet’s normally raspy voice was ground down to gravel. She met Violet’s eyes - shining green clouded over with such sadness. It was almost too uncomfortable to hold her gaze. “Stay with me?” she breathed. Violet barely moved, almost as if bracing herself for the blow of Clementine’s rejection. The split second it took for Clementine to realize that and feel her own heart ache in response was too long. She never wanted Violet to be that scared again.

“Of course,” she said. The gratitude she saw in Violet’s eyes and the softening of her expression just deepened the tightness in Clementine’s chest. She took the bulkier – and wet – clothing off of herself and climbed into bed in shorts and a tank top. She lay down on her back and helped Violet arrange herself in her arms. 

Violet’s head rested in the crook of her shoulder, her lean body pressed against Clementine, her braced arm draped across her. Clementine absently stroked Violet’s face, her arm, her back, even when Violet’s breathing became steady and soft. She closed her own eyes and let exhaustion pull her into sleep. 

****

When Clementine opened her eyes, it was raining again. There was a gentle patter on the windows and grey light filled the room as she blinked awake. She was exhausted. A profound weariness lingered in her body, but her anxiety was quiet. 

She looked down at Violet, still draped across her body. Her back rose and fell with each steady breath; the diffuse light softened her sharp features. The solid weight of her, relaxed in Clementine’s arms, felt like solace. Her heart fluttered and warmth bloomed low in her stomach before spreading throughout her body. 

Clementine allowed herself to be still and indulge in the comfort she felt in the moment's softness. She stared up at the ceiling and focused on her breathing, finding herself following Violet’s lead again. She smiled at the thought. 

Violet’s strength through all of this impressed her. Gone was the aggressive loner that had greeted her with sharp sarcasm upon her arrival at Ericson’s. She still couldn’t quite believe that Violet had chosen her to be the one to be vulnerable with. It was so surreal to receive such a gift amidst the backdrop of a dying world. She would hold on to it and cherish it as best as she knew how. 

Violet stirred slightly and groaned, the sound muffled against Clementine’s chest. She opened her eyes, blinking fast, and shifted in her arms. 

Clementine pressed her lips to her brow. Violet hummed softly. 

“Hey,” Clementine murmured. Violet’s eyebrows furrowed, and she raised her head and met her eyes. Clementine saw the minute shift of emotions in her expression. Confusion and panic flashed across her features, but ultimately embarrassment won out. Clementine watched her eyes grow wide and her cheeks flush. 

“I… have no clothes on.” Clementine couldn’t stop the amused smile from spreading across her face. She shook her head slowly. Violet shut her eyes, and, groaning theatrically, dropped her head back to the crook of her shoulder. Clementine chuckled lightly.

“Don’t worry," Clementine began, "I was a perfect gentleman and upheld your modesty to the fullest of my abilities.” Violet snorted, but when she met her eyes, there was amusement shining in hers, the slightest hint of a smile. Clementine reached out and lightly stroked her face, gently pushing a few blonde strands behind her ear. Violet’s smile grew wider, and that warmth bloomed again in her chest. She gently angled Violet’s face up and pressed her lips to hers. It was soft, almost chaste, but Clementine’s eyes fluttered closed and she sighed with contentment. 

When they pulled away, Violet lowered her head against Clementine again and shifted closer, a soft smile on her lips. The rain continued its dance against the windows. Enough time passed and Violet was so still that Clementine thought she may have fallen back to sleep. 

“Thanks.” Clementine started at the sound. Violet tilted her face up and met her eyes before darting them away. “For, uh… for being there. I… it was…” Violet struggled for the words. “It scared me. It scared me so fucking bad. I… I don’t know if I can do this.” She squeezed her eyes shut, took a long shaky breath. Clementine watched a tear streak down Violet’s cheek.

“Vi, hey.” She brushed the tear away and stroked her cheek lightly. “Look at me.” Violet’s brows furrowed. When she opened her eyes, Clementine saw a profound sadness that almost took her breath away. It tightened the knot in her chest painfully. Clementine held her gaze and chose her words carefully. “I’m with you. I’m not going anywhere. You can do this. We can do this.” And then, softly, because the thought of it threatened to break her, “I’m not losing you ever again.” 

Clementine held her eyes, saw her emotions playing out again – hope and fear mingling together, neither one coming out on top. She shifted closer to Violet, close enough to feel her breath on her cheek. She searched her eyes and saw Violet’s conflicted features. “I love you,” she breathed. 

She leaned in, saw Violet’s eyes go wide once more. When their lips met, heat ignited in her gut and sparked throughout her entire body. Her face flushed and her eyes snapped shut. Dimly, she heard herself moan in the back of her throat as Violet reciprocated by deepening the kiss. The incredible softness of her tongue coaxing Clementine’s lips open, tentatively. Clementine didn’t hesitate, she opened her mouth and swept her tongue against Violet’s. The fire in her stomach blazed as Violet’s gasp turned into a groan. Their breathing grew short and ragged. Violet’s hand slid behind Clementine’s head, her thumb smoothing over her jaw, and it felt like she was trying to get closer, as if she couldn’t tolerate any distance between them. 

Desire overwhelmed her; the flame that sparked in her body felt like it would consume her. Her brows knit together, and she whimpered against Violet’s lips. Violet deepened the kiss, slowing them down firmly; her tongue pressed against her own in long, even strokes. Clementine felt like she was spinning, her face impossibly hot and every part of her body tingled. Every one of Violet’s sighs and moans sent sharp bursts of heat through her body. 

They pulled apart slowly. Clementine’s eyes were closed, her breathing shallow. Violet’s hand was still resting against her jaw. When she opened her eyes, her breath caught in her throat. Violet’s pale face was flushed, her brows twisted up, her full lips were parted and swollen. Hooded green eyes met Clementine's and held them, an expression of amazement on her features. Violet blew out a long, shaky breath.

“Fuck, Clem.” Clementine face flushed even more and one side of her mouth quirked up into a smile, as she ducked her head down. Violet gently coaxed her face up again and held her gaze once more. The pupils in her piercing green eyes blown out wide. Clementine tentatively reached out and feathered her fingers across Violet’s brow, her cheek, her strong jawline. “That…” Violet smiled widely, and Clementine was struck again with just how beautiful she was. “you’re amazing.”

Clementine’s smile broke wide. She gently stroked the smooth planes of Violet’s shoulders, pulling her down so that her cheek was resting on her shoulder again. She held on to her as their breathing evened out. Clementine's body was tingling and she was feverish in a way that was completely enjoyable. 

“I’ve…” she cleared her throat, “I’ve never felt anything like this before,” she said. Violet hummed happily. Clementine could feel the soft vibration in her own chest, and she held Violet tighter to her. 

Violet’s hand drifted along Clementine’s torso, curling up on her chest; her fingers rested just above the hem of her tank top. That slight touch of fingers on skin sent sparks through her body, and Clementine felt another rush of warmth settle between her legs as she stifled a gasp. Violet glanced at her, an amused smile pulling at her lips. Clementine bit her lip, her own smile wide. She rolled her eyes at herself and shook her head. 

Violet shifted and propped herself on an elbow, her head resting in her hand. Her smile was still there, almost coy now, and she was just looking at her. Her eyes traced her features, taking in Clementine’s flushed skin and fluttering breath. Her smile faltered, though, as her gaze fell to her neck, the bruising faded but still dark against her skin. A look of concern crossed her features and she leaned back further. Clementine followed her gaze to her shoulder, where the skin was twisted and puckered darkly. Her stomach dropped. 

“Clem?” Violet’s fingers traced the scar softly. Clementine immediately shut down; her defense mechanisms automatically locked into place. She reached out a hand and stroked Violet’s cheek, coaxing her to meet her eyes. She tried to bring them both back to the present, but Violet's eyes were clouded over with worry. 

Clementine winced. Her anxiety clutched tight in her stomach as the memory of her scar sent her heart racing. She knew that she couldn’t keep hiding from her past; she didn’t want to. Cringing, she willed herself to open a door. 

“Gunshot. It was… a long time ago.”

Violet’s eyes went wide, and she looked back to the twisted skin. “When? How?” she asked.

Clementine shut her eyes. She heard the crack of the rifle, deafening in her memory, that had sent pain burning through her entire arm and tangling into her chest. She had been so scared. She remembered Jane keeping pressure on the wound, while Kenny shouted obscenities and criticisms in the background. Jane had hurled vicious retorts at Kenny, and then her worried expression had met Clementine’s eyes as she struggled to keep her awake, her voice sudden soft murmurs. Her panicked breathing felt suffocating right before she lost consciousness and everything faded to black.

“Clem... Look… you don’t… you don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to. I get it.” She opened her eyes. She saw Violet’s concern, but she also saw assurance and understanding. Her heart surged again, the love she felt for her buoying her confidence. It gave her the courage to be vulnerable. 

“I was eleven,” she began slowly. “The group I was with was falling apart and I caught a few of them trying to leave – they were taking our supplies, our car. A.J.’s formula was in those bags. I had to stop them, so I pulled my gun on them.” Clementine’s eyes were unfocused as she watched the scene play out before her. “I wasn’t going to shoot. I _liked_ them. I just… needed them to stop.” Clementine’s heart raced at the memory, pitching against her ribs in an absurd pantomime of the flight or fight response she had felt that night. “There was a kid, a little older than I was. He was holding the rifle. I’m just lucky the shot went clean through.”

Violet stilled her slow exploration of the scar. Clementine drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes again. She filled her lungs with air, tried to hold back the flutters of doubt that crept into her mind even as anxiety cramped in her chest. It was too much, it would be too much for her. _I’m too damaged._

Full lips brushed her own, the soft and slow contact a question. Clementine’s eyes snapped open, and she saw Violet, so close. Her lips were parted slightly, breath warm against her face. Her eyes were closed, her hand was against her face. Clementine shut her eyes and she thought for what must have been the hundredth time, _how did I deserve this?_ as she answered, closing the distance between them, her lips pressing into Violet’s. 

The kiss was slow and soft. Clementine’s heart surged in her chest as Violet guided their movements carefully, not too hard or too firm. It was almost as if she were cradling them both, soothing all of their pain and grief with each stroke of her tongue and the steady hum in her throat. 

The tension in Clementine’s body melted away; she didn’t even know her muscles were tight until suddenly, they weren’t. The knot of anxiety in her chest loosened, and she let herself be held like this; suspended apart from her past and their future, all of her sense’s razer-sharp and focused. 

She felt Violet’s lips against hers, slightly chapped, impossibly soft. She heard their soft sighs fill the room and the steady thrumming of the rain outside. She tasted the sharp tang of salt and was enveloped with a scent that she couldn’t quite place, a reminder of safety and love that she was quickly beginning to equate with Violet. 

They parted, foreheads resting together. Clementine realized that she had tasted her own tears as Violet wiped at their cooling tracks on her cheeks.

“You alright?” Violet asked softly. Clementine gazed into Violet’s eyes. Swirling greens flecked with silver searching her own. Her lips curved into a small smile.

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

****

The community was big. Carol’s house – their house, she supposed – was on a side street, away from the common buildings and gardens. The gently winding pavement curved around a large central pond. 

Clementine looked on as people hurried by with purpose, while others were engaged in conversation and laughter. There was some kind of demonstration being held inside a large, unfinished building, and across the pond she watched the woman, Michonne, swing a wickedly sharp blade. There was a girl with her, Clementine thought that maybe she was eleven? Twelve? She had a sword more appropriate for her size and was mirroring the forms and movements of the older woman. The girl had a ridiculously large sheriff’s hat balanced on her head. 

Carol ambled along at their pace and let Clementine and Violet take in the community at their leisure. She was mostly silent, answering their questions as they came up. Clementine was grateful for that. She was exhausted from the morning, her emotional volatility took its toll on her. The prospect of any kind of small talk would have been difficult.

She glanced over at Violet; her hands were shoved in her pockets and her shoulders hunched as she walked along. Concentration pulled her lips down into a frown, her eyes taking in their surroundings through the curtain of her blonde hair. She inclined her face to Clementine’s and one corner of her mouth lifted into a small smile. 

Clementine grinned back and her face flushed as she swung her head down. She focused on her boots, alternatively chastised herself for, and basked in, the shivers of excitement that radiated through her body. It was like they had crossed some kind of line, like the intimacy they shared fashioned together their uncertainty and affection into something more refined, something that pulled her desire taut in an instant. She frowned down at her feet and chewed absently at her lip. She hated that she wasn’t able to reign these feelings in, even as she craved them. 

Violet abruptly stopped in her tracks. Clementine paused and followed her gaze to the steel wall to their left. They were looking at some kind of memorial. Names covered the walls - precise black lines stark against the rusted metal. Her eyes darted across the memorial and her breath caught as she took in the sheer quantity of people. A familiar ache throbbed in her chest as Carol’s words sunk in. _Had to fight for it. Had to teach the people here to fight for it._

Clementine glanced at Carol. The older woman’s expression was one of calculated neutrality, but there was a weight settled around her. Pain that was almost frenetic clutched at her frame, as if it were holding her up on her feet. 

As they continued on their way, there were no more questions. 

****

Clementine was drained when she got back from the marketplace. She was discouraged as she dragged her feet upstairs to their room, even as the doctor’s parting advice echoed in her thoughts. _You’re still recovering. Take it easy and be kind to yourself._ She almost scoffed. 

She placed her new – frayed and worn - backpack down and pulled out her modest collection of clothes and equipment. The bowie knife that she had selected was sheathed and strapped to her thigh. She hadn’t realized how vulnerable she had felt without a weapon until she acquired it. 

Violet stopped at the clinic to check in on Aasim. Clementine heard Carol downstairs, ostensibly fixing herself dinner. The older woman had extended an invitation to join her, but the fatigue n her muscles made Clementine think only of sleep. 

She carefully eased out of her jacket and hoodie before sitting and unlacing her boots. She unstrapped her knife and placed it on the bedside table, then eased out of her pants, wincing as the thick material dragged across her thighs. The colors settled deep in her skin were fading, just at a much slower pace than she would have liked. 

Her thoughts drifted to A.J., and, against her will, visions of all the things that Delta could have done to him, the things that they could do to him, crowded her mind and filled her with despair. He was so small - she had forgotten that at times. Being on the road together for so long, keeping him safe and surviving, teaching him as best she could along the way – that had been everything. His age had only been a marker of how long they had survived. Her gut twisted at the thought of him, scared and alone. Hurt. 

She didn’t remember getting under the sheets. She rested on her side, drew her knees up to her chest, and quietly cried herself to sleep.


	6. The Sky Was Dark, But You Were Clear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains very explicit sexual content. The next time I post, I'll include a summary of any character / plot information that would be missed if you don't want to read this. 
> 
> There will also be processing of sexual and emotional abuse in this.
> 
> And, of course, so many feelings.
> 
> The title of this chapter is taken from a song. The Great Lake Swimmers - "Your Rocky Spine."

**VIOLET**

Violet barely had the energy to climb up the stairs. Some combination of her physical recovery and her emotional volatility made her feel clumsy and heavy. Despite her exhaustion, her mind was racing as it attempted to sift through the events of the day. She pushed through the door of their bedroom and discovered that Clementine was curled up on her side, asleep.

As she reflected to the morning they spent together, a pleasant warmth bloomed low in her abdomen and dispersed through her body, flushing her face. Her sudden desire surprised her, and she ducked her head and occupied herself with unpacking her bag, mentally chastising herself.

She hated to admit it, and in fact would do her best to conceal it from anybody but Clementine, but she was so fragile. All of her was taut and on a razer’s edge of grief and pain. She struggled to reconcile those emotions with her elation that Clementine, apparently, cared for her in ways that Violet never experienced before. She was amazed that they could be with each other when so many terrible things had happened.

Violet slowly took off her jacket and vest, taking care to negotiate around her broken bones. She was healing, but her inability to do the simplest tasks without something hurting frustrated her. Louis always insisted that Violet’s lack of patience with herself went beyond masochism.

 _Fuck_.

She braced an arm against the dresser and hung her head low as she took a couple of slow, even breaths. Images of her best friend refused to be kept at bay; Louis’ cheerful, delighted eyes twinkling as she greeted one of his stupid jokes with what he called her ‘full-body eye roll’… his agile fingers dancing over the ivory keys of the piano, an expression of pure bliss on his features… his quiet companionship and support after Minerva was gone, grounding her… his eyes, cold and blank, a hole gaping in his skull…

She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, hard; she felt like she was spinning in place. She shoved her fist against her injured eye; the spike of pain distracted her as a hiss escaped her lips. Remorse and shame tightened in her chest, followed instantly by fury.

Violet had so far been spared the act of taking a life. She had prepared herself for it before the assault from Delta. Despite her best intentions, she had only injured their attackers, never landing a mortal wound. She had felt a conflicting sense of relief.

Thinking about Louis, her body nearly shaking with rage, she resolved that she was going to kill Carter. After everything he did to them, after everything he did to Clementine –

She couldn’t stop the whine that tore from her throat, anger now roiling with her deep self-loathing and bitterness. Clementine hadn’t spoken about what she suffered through with Carter, but Violet had seen her; she had seen the bruises that marred her hips and her thighs, and she recognized what it meant. The thought of Clementine enduring that kind of trauma caused her stomach to churn and throat constrict.

“Vi?”

Her head jerked around and she saw Clementine raised up on her elbows, blinking out of sleep; her lips were pulled into a frown of concern. The moonlight spilling through the windows bathed them in soft blue light, and Violet remembered the night that they had revealed their feelings for each other on the bell tower.

Clementine had been so beautiful in the soft light. There had been a rare expression of serenity on her face as she gazed up at the night sky. Violet remembered the flutter of excitement in her stomach when Clementine confessed her feelings for her. Clementine had been so timid. Violet had never seen Clementine’s confidence falter before and had been amazed she was the cause of it. There had been a hush that swept around them when their lips touched for the first time, almost as if the universe above was holding its breath.

She took a deep breath and willed herself to be present in this moment. She gave Clementine a genuine, if slightly crooked, smile.

“Shit, sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

Clementine, clearly still concerned, sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. “You okay?” she asked.

For a second, Violet thought about deflecting. Pretending everything was all right was habit, especially when she didn’t want to be a burden. A big part of her recognized that Clementine would see right through her, so she braced herself and settled for part of the story.

“I was thinking about Louis,” she answered, and saw Clementine’s face fall. There was a charged silence between them. Violet crossed her arms over her chest without thinking about it and shifted her gaze to the floor.

“Do you want to talk?” Clementine offered. 

Violet huffed, frustrated with herself. Clementine had been through so much - she didn’t think it was right to ask for support. When she met Clementine’s eyes, she softened by the warmth that she saw. It was a little disconcerting. Violet had never had that level of care from anyone. Not from her parents, and not from Minerva. She wasn’t even sure she deserved it.

She dropped her arms to her sides as she shook her head. It was a struggle to put together the correct words to communicate how she felt.

“I…” she began and sighed. “I just wanna be here, you know?” Her thoughts raced as she tried to piece together her conflicting emotions. Clementine was quiet, allowing her the time that she needed. “I… It’s not like I want to forget? It’s just, I don’t want it to be the only thing we have. I don’t wanna miss out on… this,” she stated as she gestured between them.

She stared hard at the floor as old insecurities twisted inside her. A memory of Minerva’s voice echoed in her mind, and she cringed. _You’re embarrassing, Vi. Why do you have to be so fucking needy_?

She forced herself to meet Clementine’s eyes and took in a deep breath. Embarrassment flushed her face.

“I, um… I also haven’t felt anything like this before,” she mumbled.

Clementine’s face relaxed with a small smile, but immediately turned timid and shy. “Oh… I just figured… with Minnie…”

Violet just shook her head, shame flushing her face. She had been so infatuated with Minerva. She spent the year after she was gone processing her grief. With the help of Louis as a sounding board, she realized just how flawed their relationship had been. Minerva had been so distant to her, so manipulative. Yet, she had clung to fleeting moments of ordinary kindness as proof of her love. She had been so naïve, so foolish. What they had together hadn’t been love. She mentally shook herself and focused back to Clementine. She didn’t know how to explain all of her emotions to her.

“It… wasn’t like this.” Violet ducked her head and continued undressing, unable to face Clementine any longer. She took off her boots and jeans, which left her in a tight-fitting tank top and boxer briefs. When she turned back to Clementine, her breath caught in her throat.

Clementine’s eyes unabashedly wandered across her body. Violet felt their path smolder across her skin, and warmth bloomed low in her abdomen. She watched Clementine taking her in, and when their eyes met Violet could see how dilated her pupils were. She could practically feel the warmth radiating from her body.

Violet was drawn to those eyes, and before she knew what she was doing, she was on her hands and knees above Clementine. Her face burned and her pulse quickened at the sight of Clementine; her amber eyes were wide, her lips parted. _Fuck, she’s so beautiful_.

Violet watched Clementine’s pulse leap at her throat and was compelled to lower her mouth gently. The warm flutter of skin against her lips enthralled her. Clementine gasped as Violet’s lips and tongue delicately explored tender skin. Clementine’s hand tangled at the back of her head and held her as she arched back, exposing more of her neck for Violet’s lips.

Heat engulfed Violet’s entire body, and she groaned against her skin. Every sigh and gasp exhaled from Clementine was like a benediction, and she only wanted more; she was consumed with a yearning to uncover all the ways she could pull more intoxicating sounds from her.

She trailed soft kisses over her jaw, her teeth grazing across skin lightly, and was gifted with a quick inhalation of breath. Violet paused inches from Clementine’s lips, both of their breath sharp and shallow; Clementine’s eyebrows were furrowed, but her eyes were open. They seemed to search her own, appealing to Violet with assurance and desire.

Violet gently swept her fingers across her cheek, across the knotted scar tissue that puckered her soft skin. She felt a flash of distress, before awareness of just how vulnerable Clementine was allowing herself to be overwhelmed her.

Clementine’s courage never failed to amaze Violet, and this - how she was offering herself to her after everything she had endured - had Violet reeling. She made an instinctive vow to never, ever break that implicit trust.

When their lips met, the fire in Violet’s chest exploded. She was exalted with how eagerly Clementine parted her lips for her, and her head swum with the first sweep of her tongue against hers. Clementine groaned deep in her throat and grasped at Violet’s hips, tugging her down against her.

As Violet’s entire length pushed into her, Clementine threw her head back and whimpered through her frantic breathing. The sound was throaty and almost desperate, and it pulled Violet’s desire taut as an almost painful flush coursed through her body. She leaned back to Clementine’s neck, wanting to replace the abuse she had experienced with tenderness, barely pressing lips and tongue to skin. Clementine sighed and shifted underneath her.

Violet flinched as Clementine’s hands worked underneath her tank top. One hand found her waist while the other flattened itself against her back, holding her close. Violet crushed their lips together, swallowing Clementine’s groans as their tongues swirled.

When Clementine rolled her hips against hers and she felt the gentle vibration of her whimper against her lips, something snapped inside of Violet. Lust, anxiety and shame all coalesced into a solid knot in her throat. The fear that she was taking things too fast nearly paralyzed her. She placed a steady hand on Clementine’s waist and pulled back from their kiss, both of them breathing hard.

Clementine’s eyes were wide, her cheeks were flushed and her lips swollen. Violet watched worry pull at her features. She wanted nothing more than to take those lips with hers, grind their hips together and coax those heady sounds from Clementine until they were both gasping for air. But she had to be sure that she was right there with her. She would never forgive herself if Clementine felt in any way pressured.

“I, um…” Violet began, “I just… want to make sure…” she pulled in a deep breath and ignored the flutter of anxiety in her stomach. “I want this to feel good, you know? For both of us?” 

Clementine’s face fell, distress pulling at her features. That change in expression was enough to confirm Violet’s fears. Her heart clenched cold; panic clutched at her throat. She had taken things too far, too fast. _Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck_.

“I’m sorry that… I, um…” Clementine hesitated, “I don’t… really know what I’m doing…” she finished, her face flushing with embarrassment. She drew her hands away from Violet’s body and settled them by her sides.

Violet was puzzled for a moment, before realization sunk in; Clementine was apologizing for her inexperience. She wasn’t upset about Violet coming on too strong. A wave of relief swept through her before she realized that her poor choice of words had made Clementine insecure. _Fucking beautiful, Vi. A plus performance_.

“No! No, that’s not what I meant… at all… I just,” Violet sighed. “Shit.” She hesitated as her thoughts jostled together. Her heart was beating a frantic rhythm in her chest. Clementine’s eyes were drawn, her teeth were worrying at her lip. “I just… want you to know that we don’t have to do anything,” Violet said. “We can… take our time… or we can just hold each other…” she floundered.

Comprehension slowly dawned on Clementine’s features, and her expression hardened. Violet remembered that same fierce expression of conviction from when they had first met - Clementine had worn it like armor against the world for so long. Violet had to glance aside as fear and shame tangled in her chest. She knew full well that she had said all the wrong things and crossed a line.

She was preparing to pull away and already retreating into the familiarity of her self-loathing. Clementine’s palm, soft against her cheek, firmly coaxed her gaze back to her own.

Violet expected to see something like pity in her eyes. She had been so used to seeing Minerva’s face twisted in contempt that what she saw in Clementine’s features shocked her.

One side of her lips quirked into a small smile, her expression still determined but its ferocity tempered. It was like Clementine could see right into her, and what she saw didn’t disgust her or make her want to leave. Violet saw the warmth in her gaze. She saw affirmation and love, and her heart tightened as she let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding.

“How’d I find you?” Clementine whispered. For a second, Violet doubted what she heard, and in the next instant Clementine’s lips were on hers. As if she had done it a thousand times, Clementine easily coaxed Violet’s mouth open and deepened their kiss, swallowing her groan of elation.

Violet’s head was spinning as the soft and unyielding stroke of Clementine’s tongue completely overwhelmed her. She felt a sweeping intensity, as if Clementine was asserting her love and affection and affirming Violet’s own; as if she could fuse them together and fill in each other’s gaps to create something new. Something flawless and unharmed.

They parted, and Violet’s heart was pounding in her chest. She focused on her breathing; deep, shaky breaths that mirrored Clementine’s. Clementine’s hands skated across her body, one shifting over her hip and the other to her shoulder, holding her tight.

“Hey… look at me.” Violet met her gaze. Clementine’s eyes were stormy; lust and warmth and resolve all raged in their depths. “I don’t know what I’m doing. Everything I’ve been feeling is new and scary and so exciting and… I, um…” she smiled wide, eyes gazing off at memory.

She refocused and met Violet’s gaze again. “When I first got to Ericson’s, I thought maybe I had caught a bug or something. My stomach felt weird. I was feverish. My heart would beat too fast…” She paused and let the words sink in. “I figured out pretty quickly that I only felt like that when you were around.”

A blush spread across Violet’s face even as she grinned. Clementine smiled in return. She brought her hand to Violet’s face, her thumb smoothing over her jaw.

Clementine’s smiled faded. “He doesn’t get to take this from me,” she said, so quietly that Violet almost missed it. “From us.” Something hard twisted in Violet’s chest, but when she met Clementine’s eyes, all she found was inflexible resolve. “I won’t let him.”

Violet thought wildly about what she could say. Clementine’s staunch reclamation of herself both inspired and shattered her. She was devastated all over again that Clementine had gone through an experience that forced her into some reconciliation with her own body, and it astonished her how resolutely she reestablished her strength. Violet was sure that anything she could say would be a disgrace to what Clementine had just expressed; that no words coming from her mouth could do her experience justice.

“Like I said,” Clementine continued, “I don’t know what to do when we’re… like this. All I know is that I can’t stand not being close to you.” Clementine pressed her lips to her brow, her cheek, her jaw. They were soft, feather light kisses. “Show me how,” she breathed, and Violet shivered as her heart hammered in her chest.

She couldn’t speak. Clementine’s decisive vulnerability washed over her and she knew that if there was anything that she could give her, it was this. Violet cupped her face with her palm, holding Clementine’s lustful and slightly timid, gaze. Both of them were hardly breathing.

“Clem,” she said, stroking her cheek softly. “I need you to tell me if something doesn’t feel good, okay? Anything, anytime, and we’ll stop.” Clementine nodded quickly.

“Yeah… yeah, okay,” she said.

Violet’s hand traced along Clementine’s face and rested in the thick curls of her hair, the silken texture threaded through her fingers. As she brought their lips together, she shifted and pressed her thigh between Clementine’s legs. The ache between her own thighs intensified as Clementine rolled her hips, seeking more friction and gasping when she found it.

She lost herself in kissing her, the steady thrum of her heart and their soft sounds dizzying. It had never been like this with Minerva. Even when she had let Violet kiss her, it was always a perfunctory gesture, something that she would grant Violet only after making her ask. It had been curt and frequently humiliating. Violet had learned to stop asking.

Clementine’s mouth on hers, the urgent sounds she made with every slight shift of her hips, the strength of her hands as they held onto her - all of it had Violet reeling. The feeling of being desired, of being lusted after, dangerously stoked the fire in her body.

This time, when Clementine arched against her thigh, her head snapped back into the pillow and an unsteady whine fell from her lips. Violet dipped down and pressed her lips to Clementine’s collarbone, nipping and sucking gently. Clementine’s whine turned into a hitched moan as her hands met at the back of Violet’s head, holding her tightly.

Violet gripped Clementine’s waist as her lips and tongue explored the soft skin of her collar. Clementine, panting, kept her neck exposed in encouragement. When Violet’s teeth grazed a sensitive spot, she felt Clementine’s groan against her lips. She continued her slow exploration, following the hem of Clementine’s tank top. Her lips skimmed the soft swell of her breast.

Violet tilted her head up and found that Clementine was watching her. She saw the rapid cadence of Clementine’s heart pound its rhythm underneath the delicate skin of her neck. A small shiver of anticipation ran through her body.

Violet turned her attention back to Clementine’s skin, feathering her lips against her as she reached under her tank top and slid her hand against her stomach. Clementine’s abs tensed under her teasing fingers as Violet shifted her hand up and trailed her fingers over her already stiff nipple. The sound that came from Clementine was somewhere between a grunt and a gasp.

She pushed Clementine’s tank top up and over her heaving chest, pausing to admire the curves of her body and the flush of desire on her skin. Her breasts, fuller than Violet’s own, trembled with every unsteady breath. She quickly closed the gap between them and let her lips lightly brush a taut nipple. Clementine whimpered, and she shivered as she dug her fingers hard into Violet’s shoulders.

Violet continued her slow torment. She barely brushed her lips against the firm flesh as her fingers skated across her tensed belly. Her tongue and lips softly and slowly pressed against sternum and the underside of breast. Clementine was shaking, her breath shuddering, and Violet was in awe, simply amazed that she had this effect on her.

When Violet finally pulled a hard nipple into her mouth, it ripped a great heaving sob from Clementine’s lips. Violet stroked the hard flesh with broad swipes of her tongue, riding out Clementine’s arching back and surging chest. Her fingers sought Clementine’s other nipple, and she twisted the firm flesh while her teeth grazed the hard nub between her lips. Clementine’s strained, breathless wail deepened the fire in her stomach. Fingers dug into the back of Violet’s head as Clementine arched against her.

Violet stole a glance at her face and basked in features contorted in pleasure. Clementine’s shaky breath parted her full lips, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She wanted to memorize every soft curve and see every shuddering breath. The heat in her own body and the steady pulse beating between her thighs filled her with urgency. There was nothing she could ever do to express to Clementine how much she cared for her, but she needed to try.

She pushed herself away from Clementine’s quaking chest and settled her body on top of her length. Clementine’s eyes opened, and Violet lost herself in those swirling depths, while they both pulled in air with quick pants. She gently stroked Clementine’s cheek as she held her eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered. Clementine sighed and smiled, radiant. She leaned up and captured Violet’s lips in a brief kiss.

“You make me feel beautiful,” Clementine said simply. Violet couldn’t keep the smile from her face. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Clementine glanced at her lips before her eyes flicked back to Violet’s. They were charged with passion, crackling with lust. Violet’s pulse quickened, and she felt her throat catch as she lowered her lips to hers.

There was nothing delicate about this kiss. It was rough and urgent, their passion colliding and threatening to consume them. Violet would have been embarrassed by the desperate whimpers coming from her throat if she wasn’t acutely distracted by the sounds that Clementine was making – soft, needy mewls that made her head spin.

Clementine’s hands grasped at the hem of Violet’s tank top and she broke their kiss.

“Please…” she gasped, “I need to feel you.”

Another blaze of heat swelled in Violet’s gut and she shivered. Overwhelmed, she couldn’t reconcile Clementine’s obvious desire for her with her own insecurities. Minerva’s cruel words echoed back to her. _You’re so skinny, Vi… shit, Marlon’s got bigger tits than you_.

“Hey…” and she was snapped out of her memory as she focused back to Clementine, whose features had shifted to concern. “It’s okay. You don’t ha-“

Violet interrupted her with her lips, the kiss full and deep. When they parted, she sat back on Clementine’s lap with her knees on either side of her hips. She paused as she gripped the hem of her shirt. Her gaze wandered across Clementine’s body.

Clementine had propped herself up on her elbows, her unsteady breath making her chest rise and fall erratically. Her smooth skin was marred with more scars than Violet could count. The slight swell of her hips and belly stoked the lust burning inside of her.

Violet cast aside any last remnants of hesitation that she had as she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it away. A strange combination of anxiety and anticipation lumped in her chest as she dared meet Clementine’s eyes through the curtain of her hair.

There was something carnal in the way Clementine’s eyes raked over her bare body. When Clementine held Violet’s eyes, the hunger she saw in them made her shudder.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Clementine’s voice was husky and low. Violet didn’t have time to be embarrassed before Clementine’s hands trailed carefully along her ribs and stomach, clearly mindful of her injury. Violet’s head fell back as sparks of pleasure lit through her body, the warm pulse between her legs throbbing. Her breath came out ragged; hoarse whines escaped her lips as fingers grazed her breasts and nipples.

Clementine sat up and pulled Violet firmly into her lap. Strong arms wrapped around her back and then all of her senses contracted, her body consumed with Clementine’s mouth, hot and wet, sucking her nipple. Teeth and tongue and soft lips tore raspy groans from Violet’s throat, while Clementine’s powerful arms supported her and held her close. Violet’s head was spinning and her chest was heaving; her harsh whimpers mingled with Clementine’s needy moans.

She had never been touched like this before. Clementine’s lust had her swooning. She was in a haze of physical sensation, completely overwhelmed and at her mercy. When Clementine’s attention drifted to her other nipple, Violet didn’t think as she brought a hand to the curls at the nape of her neck and held her close. The flesh of her breast stifled Clementine’s grunt of approval, and Violet took a great shuddering breath.

“Fuck, Clem, oh _fuck_ … shit, you feel so good, you’re so good,” Violet whimpered through her gasping. Clementine groaned, and its vibration settled deep in Violet’s chest. A hand snaked between them and Clementine’s fingers sought and found Violet’s other breast. She clutched and twisted her nipple hard while her tongue lazily circled the other.

Every pinch and stroke of her nipples ached between her thighs; Violet’s arousal was impossibly heavy and full. She tugged at Clementine’s shirt, and they parted so she could pull it up and fling it away, colliding back together with lips and skin and heat.

She coaxed Clementine onto her back and they both gasped as their breasts smashed together, their kiss becoming sloppy and frenzied. Clementine gripped the back of Violet’s head and held her mouth to hers. Her tongue subdued Violet’s and pulled them firmly in sync. Violet was reeling, but she had enough focus to align their legs together and roll her hips into Clementine’s. Their sharp gasps mingled as their tongues swept together.

Clementine grasped Violet’s hips and pulled them together, her strong thigh angled between Violet’s. The sudden friction had Violet whimpering, and she ground down on Clementine’s hips with fervor. Heat swelled in her chest as Clementine matched her move for move, both of them finding an easy rhythm, as if they had done it a hundred times before.

Hands moved to the back of Violet’s head. Clementine arched under her, her body strained and taut as Violet pulled a firm nipple into her mouth. She sucked hard through Clementine’s hitched sob, dizzy with her scent and the slight taste of salt on her tongue.

Violet didn’t stop lavishing attention to Clementine’s nipple as she slid a hand down her tense stomach. She strove to contain the pounding of her heart as her hand smoothed over the swell of hip. Clementine’s breath caught as Violet trailed her fingers along the inside of her thigh, tracing feather light patterns against skin. She grazed her fingers where thigh meets pelvis and could feel the heat of Clementine’s arousal.

“Ooohhhh… oh, fuck, Vi.” Clementine’s low and throaty moan made Violet’s pulse pound painfully behind her eyelids and she rolled the hard nipple between her lips. When her fingers gently cupped the heat between Clementine’s legs, she heard a desperate, needy keening that drowned out Violet’s own harsh gasp. She could feel how wet she was through the thin cotton. Violet’s fingers slowly travelled the length of her, eliciting stuttering, breathy gasps from Clementine. Violet was in awe at the intensity of Clementine’s lust.

Clementine’s hoarse gasps filled the room as she rolled her hips against her hand. Violet’s nimble fingers put pressure on her hard clit that she found through the wet cotton. Clementine cried out and Violet groaned deep in her throat. Clementine’s fingers twisted roughly in her hair and her breath came out rapid fire. Every part of her body was tensed and strained. Violet moved her fingers away from her damp heat and smoothed her hand against a trembling thigh. An uneven whine and a roll of hips expressed Clementine’s dissatisfaction.

Violet grazed her fingertips back and forth along her thigh while her tongue pressed against Clementine’s sweat slicked stomach.

“Please,” Clementine’s voice cracked with effort, “please, touch me.” Violet shuddered as Clementine’s words pounded into her own arousal. She put her hands on Clementine’s hips and slowly dragged herself down as her lips and tongue forged a path of wetness and heat on her skin. She settled herself down between her legs, and her heart hammered in her throat when she saw the evidence of Clementine’s arousal.

Slowly, Violet slid her underwear down. She paused and met Clementine’s gaze with a silent question in her eyes. Clementine, pupils dark with desire, nodded quickly. Violet quickly pulled the offending garment away and her breath caught.

Violet wouldn’t have thought it possible that she could get anyone this aroused. Clementine was soaked - her tight curls were damp and glistening; her folds were swollen and shining as pools of fluid seeped from her depths. Violet let her breath out and fixed her gaze as she appreciated, yet again, just how stunning her girlfriend was.

A sudden stillness from Clementine pulled Violet’s focus to her and her heart sank. Clementine’s fists balled into the sheets beside her, her brows were furrowed. Her eyes stared hard at a point just beyond Violet as tension coiled tight in her body. Violet immediately propped herself up.

“Clem?” she breathed, stomach sinking as she observed her distress. She reached up and grasped Clementine’s hands, her long fingers threading alongside her smaller ones. Clementine focused, met Violet’s eyes, and softened slightly. “We can stop. We can –“

Clementine’s face fell, and she quickly shook her head.

“No,” Clementine said, firmly. She took a shaky breath and smiled softly. She squeezed Violet’s hands, her expression set. “I just… I’m good. I want this… I want you.”

Violet chewed her lip as she scanned Clementine’s features. She searched her eyes and found no hesitation. Clementine squeezed her hands again and her pupils dilated as she held Violet’s eyes.

“Please,” she whispered.

Violet shuddered as her words warmed her entire body. She gently kissed Clementine’s stomach as she shifted low again. She made her journey agonizingly slow, gauging Clementine’s reactions as she went. Violet knew that she had her full attention by her soft whimpers and the way her body shifted beneath her own. She met her gaze again.

“Stay with me, Clem,” she breathed. Clementine shuddered slightly and her eyes clouded over with lust. Violet settled between her legs. She pressed her lips gently and slowly against Clementine’s hips and down her inner thigh, all the while maintaining eye contact. “Stay with me,” she murmured, and Clementine nodded quickly as her breath hitched.

The first long sweep of her tongue through Clementine’s heat had her whirling; all of Violet’s senses were focused on the taste and texture between her lips. Clementine’s sob of elation barely registered through the fog enveloping Violet’s thoughts. Her tongue and lips gently explored the soaked creases; the swollen flesh muffled her own hums of gratification. Clementine’s hands clutched hers tightly as her hips moved almost of their own volition and pressed her heat firmly against Violet’s face.

Violet was euphoric. Breathy moans steadily escaped Clementine’s parted lips as Violet worked her tongue against her, gently coaxing richly fragrant liquid into her mouth. She had never tasted anything so exhilarating. Clementine’s moans turned into a continuous whine.

When Violet’s lips made insistent contact with her clit, tongue rolling the tight bundle of nerves firmly, Clementine threw her head back and howled. Her thighs tightened against Violet’s head as her hips stuttered and her chest heaved. Violet rode her rolling hips, her mouth never losing contact. Her tongue lavished broad, firm strokes against the pulsing nerves. Her own whimpers were lost to Clementine’s sobbing cries as she circled her clit with soothing strokes before sucking thoroughly.

Clementine was close. Violet could sense it in the tension of her body, the broken roll of her hips and the clench of her abs. She could hear it in her breathless, inconsolable whimpers and moans. Violet stole a glance up, and the sight of Clementine so close to her climax sent shivers through her entire body.

Clementine let go of Violet’s hands and clenched at the sheets tightly.

“Violet… _fuck_ … don’t stop, please don’t stop,” Clementine implored as one of her hands threaded through her blonde hair. Violet groaned deep in her chest. Her jaw ached as her tongue circled and teased. She smoothed her palms against Clementine’s thighs, spreading her legs further and gently holding her still.

Clementine’s staccato cries demanded Violet’s attention, urging her to give her the release that she so desperately sought. Violet put her lips around her clit, broad strokes of her tongue lavishing it with just the right amount of pressure to hurl her over the edge.

Clementine came hard; her back arched as her hands fisted into the sheets, and a broken, guttural wail tore from her throat. Violet held on, her own arousal aching and heavy. She rode Clementine’s climax with her, her mouth and tongue intent on dragging out her pleasure as long as possible. She savored Clementine’s breathless sobs and the throb of her pulse beating between her lips. Violet’s own heat ached as a rush of liquid was released all over her face.

She brought them both down with slow, soft touches, smoothing her hands against thighs and stomach. Clementine’s body relaxed, muscles releasing themselves and trembling lightly. Violet was drunk with the scent and flavor of her, intent on pulling as much of her wetness into her mouth as she could. She soothed Clementine’s quivering body with gentle strokes of her tongue, now avoiding the raw nerves of her clit and instead focusing on soft folds. Clementine trailed her fingers against Violet’s brow and cheek, humming her satisfaction.

Violet was lost to everything except taste and texture until the hand against her cheek coaxed her attention. She regretfully parted from Clementine’s heat, propped herself up on her elbows and met her girlfriend’s gaze.

Clementine’s eyes were hooded; a light sheen of sweat made her skin luminous. Her lips were parted and her breathing was choppy, but when Violet met her eyes, her mouth quirked into a tired smile. Violet grinned back at her, shifted and pressed her body along Clementine’s.

Faces inches away, Violet watched Clementine’s eyes darken. She saw the tip of her tongue as her lips parted slightly. Clementine’s heady scent was everywhere, and Violet saw the curiosity dancing in her girlfriend’s eyes. She closed the distance between them and pressed her mouth to Clementine’s, deftly parting her lips with her tongue.

Violet kissed her deeply as she swallowed Clementine’s whimpers of pleasure. She knew that Clementine could taste herself, and that stoked the ache deep in her core. It aroused her to the edge of pain; she could almost feel the blood rush between her legs, swelling the sensitive flesh. Her tongue was firm against Clementine’s, resolute in her need to pull more of those sounds from her girlfriend’s throat.

They parted, both of them breathless. Clementine put her lips to Violet’s chin, her cheek, the corners of her mouth, her nose – dragging across her skin and gently nipping. A painful ache thundered between Violet’s thighs as she realized that Clementine was seeking more of her taste.

“ _Fuck_ , Clem…” she groaned. Clementine hummed happily and a wide smile spread across her face. Violet couldn’t contain her own smile even if she had wanted to. They gazed at each other while catching their breath. Clementine reached out and pushed a sweaty strand of blond hair behind Violet’s ear.

“Holy shit,” Clementine breathed, her eyes shining with amusement. Violet’s smile broadened at her girlfriend’s choice of words; it roused the memory of their first kiss on the bell tower and Violet’s stunned response.

“That’s romantic,” Violet teased back.

“I mean… _holy_ shit.”

Violet chuckled as she eased herself off of Clementine and onto her back. The throbbing between her thighs was softening, and she took a few deep breaths to ease its intensity.

Clementine’s hand skated across her stomach, gently stroking her body. She slowly eased her fingers underneath the band of her boxer briefs. A spasm of shame knotted in Violet’s gut and she tensed.

She was overwhelmed with the certainty that she had somehow pressured Clementine into touching her. Remorse tightened Violet’s chest and suddenly, she very upset with herself. She eased Clementine’s hand away.

Concern was evident in Clementine’s features. She propped herself up on her elbow and searched Violet’s face, which was flushed with humiliation. The sharp sting of guilt bloomed in her chest as she averted her eyes.

“Vi?” Clementine coaxed her gaze back with a gentle hand on her cheek. Violet saw love shining in her eyes, clear and bright; but the tangles of Violet’s fear and guilt were rooted deep. “Where’d you go?” Clementine asked softly.

Conflicted, Violet wracked her brain to come up with an explanation. She was certain that there was nothing that she could say to make this better. Clementine had gifted her with her vulnerability and trust, and Violet had disrespected those gifts by being so needy.

Shame paralyzed her. After a few more moments of indecision, as Clementine’s concern grew, Violet finally muttered something.

“You don’t have to… you know, do anything,” she began haltingly. She sighed, swallowed her agitation, and began again. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to,” she finished, as she averted her eyes away from Clementine’s.

Deafening silence greeted her words. As the moments passed, Violet’s anxiety and guilt swirled and coalesced into a hard knot in her gut. Her heart thumped at the back of her throat.

“Hey…” Clementine began, “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.” Violet raised her gaze to Clementine and saw the concern and worry in her eyes. “But for the record, you didn’t make me feel like I have to do anything. I want to touch you.”

Violet’s anxiety gave way to confusion. She tried to sort through what Clementine was saying to her. Minerva would be disgusted with how excited Violet was after getting her off. _Christ, Violet – you’re always in heat. It’s like you’re some horny fucking teenage boy_.

Then, just like that, it occurred to Violet that sex was just another tool Minerva used to manipulate her. Violet had never talked about her sex life with Louis – it had just seemed too personal. Maybe if she had, she would have realized how one sided it had been. Thinking about it now, thinking about all her negative feelings that had come up around what she was doing or how she was feeling, it finally clicked. Her mind was racing – she didn’t know how to think about it, let alone how to talk about it.

She looked at Clementine. Worry and sadness replaced the lust that had been in her eyes moments ago. Violet felt terrible – like she had taken something beautiful between them and shattered it. Clementine’s hand reached out for hers; strong fingers threaded through her own. Violet focused on that strength and took a deep breath.

“I, ah…” she began, “I’m kinda just realizing some things… I’m not really sure how to talk about it.” She hated that it was so difficult for her to express herself. She sought Clementine’s eyes and held her gaze. The softness she saw in them made her feel safe. A surge of confidence quelled most of her anxiety. “You… I mean, the things you said. Are you sure I didn’t make you feel, like, obligated?”

“Not even a little,” Clementine said. She gave Violet’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I love you. And what I just felt with you was…” she blew her breath out softly, shaking her head. “… I mean, it was incredible. I just wanted to keep feeling it, you know?” Clementine leaned close and held Violet’s eyes. Her lips were so close, and despite her conflicted feelings, Violet’s pulse quickened. That’s when Clementine closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Violet’s attention was brought back to the heavy musk still enveloping them, firmly stoking the embers of her desire.

“I wanted you to feel it,” Clementine breathed, catching Violet’s shaky sigh with her lips and mouth. The kiss cleaved through Violet’s anxiety and her heart surged. The softness of Clementine’s lips abolished all of her doubts and fears. She vaguely heard the whimpers she released into her girlfriend’s mouth. The soft sounds of Clementine’s own pleasure mingled with the heady scent blanketing them and tightened the ache between Violet’s thighs.

Clementine gently pulled away. She searched Violet’s eyes.

“Tell me what you want, Violet,” Clementine’s said. Her voice was low and husky, her eyes dark with lust. Violet shuddered and her eyes snapped shut.

She tried to rally. She struggled to say something, to speak. Suddenly, she was spiraling out of control. Her pulse sped up, and she strove to catch her breath. Her body pulled towards Clementine, urging her to be vulnerable, even as the shame she had suffered from for so long brooded heavy and dark in her mind.

Calloused fingers trailed her cheek and her neck. They settled on her stuttering chest, right above her heart. Opening her eyes, Violet took in the dark features of her lover; Clementine’s full lips and high cheekbones, her amber eyes swirling with compassion and love and lust. Mustering all of her self-control, she banished any remaining doubts and finally spoke her truth.

“I want you,” Violet whispered.

She experienced tremendous release with those simple words. Even as Clementine seized her lips and pulled her body taut with every sweep of her tongue and soft sound from her throat, Violet felt a sublime sense of clarity. There was nothing more she had to say, nothing that could define her state of being any clearer.

Clementine rolled on top of her; her strong thighs pinned Violet’s hips down as she deepened the kiss. Fingers grazed Violet’s breasts and stomach, slid to her hips and swiftly lowered her boxer briefs. The urgency of Clementine’s movements fueled the blaze low in Violet’s gut. Quickly, she kicked off her underwear and Clementine eased a firm thigh between her legs. Clementine’s naked body pressing against her own was beyond anything Violet could have imagined.

Breaking their kiss, Clementine pressed her mouth against Violet’s jaw and grazed her teeth down, her tongue and lips sweeping across the delicate skin of her neck. Violet was panting, whimpering, and she groaned when Clementine simultaneously twisted a nipple and sucked hard on her collarbone. Her hips rolled up against Clementine’s thigh, and they both gasped at the sensation of slick, wet heat on skin. Clementine shifted. Her lips barely grazed Violet’s ear.

“You’re so wet,” she whispered, and Violet shivered. The fingers that were teasing her nipple gently slid lower, over her flat stomach and sharp hip bone, and came to rest at the top of wet blond curls. Her fingers paused there and curled, so close to Violet’s heat and ache that she whined.

Clementine pulled her earlobe between her lips and grazed her teeth against sensitive cartilage.

“What do you want?” Clementine’s breath was hot against her ear. Violet was completely untethered – the soft words and teasing touches fanned the impossible fire burning beneath her skin. Constant whimpers escaped her lips as Clementine circled light fingers throughout her damp curls. She gently twisted and tugged, skimming the sensitive skin with her nails and smoothing over her quaking flesh with her palm.

“You’re gonna have to tell me. Remember, I don’t know what I’m doing…” There was something playfully wicked in Clementine’s tone that made Violet’s heart skip a beat. The groan released from Violet’s throat was desperate. She could feel Clementine’s satisfied smile against her skin. Violet rolled her hips, seeking any relief at all for the fiery ache just below Clementine’s teasing fingers. Clementine just continued her slow, looping movements, affecting obliviousness to Violet’s need. She grunted with dissatisfaction.

“Clementine, _please_ ,” she sobbed.

“Please, what?” Her lips lightly brushed her ear. Violet huffed her frustration, equally embarrassed and aroused by Clementine’s teasing insistence. She tried to take a deep breath. Finally, she reached inside of herself and gave voice to her needs.

“I want you inside,” Violet whimpered. There was an excruciating moment of stillness when Violet thought that maybe Clementine hadn’t heard her. The next moment, fingers slid through her folds and firmly circled her swollen flesh. Clementine’s harsh breath burst against her face as they both gasped. Before Violet could focus, one of Clementine’s fingers slid inside of her, tearing a sob from her chest.

Both of them were panting. Violet’s body tightened and quivered around Clementine’s finger, buried to the knuckle inside of her. Slowly, Clementine began moving; she pulled out of her heat almost entirely before thrusting back inside. Sharp gasps escaped Violet’s lips with every push as all of her senses focused on the pressure between her legs. When Clementine pushed a second finger alongside the first, Violet arched back and cried out.

“Clem, you’re so good, you’re doing so good,” she choked. Clementine groaned deep in her chest as her breath hitched.

“I wanna keep hearing you,” Clementine husked, “Tell me if I’m doing good.” Violet felt her hot breath and could hear the need in the crack of her voice. Liquid heat punched into her aching groin when she realized how much her words turned Clementine on, and then she was lost to the pounding between her legs as Clementine increased her speed. Clementine’s mouth and lips pressed against her throat, and Violet knew she could feel her whimpers against her tongue.

Violet rolled her hips to meet Clementine’s steady thrusts; the knot in her gut grew tighter and tighter. Her fingers grasped at the sheets beside her. She caught sight of Clementine’s bicep and forearm tensing and flexing as her hand worked between Violet’s legs. When Clementine’s palm brushed against her clit, Violet’s entire body jumped. Her hand stilled against her.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, worry lacing every word. Violet shook her head quickly.

“No – fuck, no,” Violet gasped, “Everything you’re doing feels so good. Keep… keep touching me there.”

When Clementine brought her thumb to her clit and pressed the pad firmly against the hardened flesh, Violet threw her head back and sobbed. Clementine’s fingers pounded into her as her thumb began circling. The pressure was almost too much, a knife’s edge between pleasure and pain; she was so ready for her release.

Through the haze of sensation, Violet reached up and ran her hand through Clementine’s thick curls and held her close. She turned her head; her lips almost brushed Clementine’s ear. Between her gasped whimpers, mustering all of her will, Violet breathed out three words.

“Good girl, Clementine.”

The effect of her words was immediate; Clementine let out a deep, groaning, “ _Fuck_ ,” as her body nearly doubled over. Her teeth bit into the soft skin of Violet’s neck as she shuddered and whined against her.

Violet was drowning; it was as if she was being consumed from the inside out. Great flames of sensation leapt under her skin and engaged every nerve in her body. She still didn’t understand how she had this effect on Clementine, but it made every beat of her heart pound and the fire in her body blaze white hot.

Violet was close; the pressure was building with every hard thrust of fingers and swipe of thumb. Clementine buried her fingers inside and curled them up slightly, dragging against her. Violet arched back and grunted.

“Oh, _fuck_ , fuck, right there, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” she panted. Clementine’s face pressed against Violet’s neck as she whined and gasped. She turned her hard, long thrusts into swallow drags, keeping near constant pressure on Violet’s sensitive wall. Through her keening whimper, as the pressure built higher and higher, Violet’s voice rasped against Clementine’s ear. “You’re doing so good, Clem. You’re gonna make me come so hard.”

Clementine’s whining became desperate as she continued her merciless pace. When she pressed her thumb against her clit and curled her fingers hard, Violet was lost. She howled and swore, and her body pulled taut as it trembled its release around Clementine’s fingers. Her heart felt like it would burst through her chest as the ache inside of her shattered. She was hurled into a confusion of sensation. Everything was too much and not nearly enough. She was sucking in air and she couldn’t breathe. Clementine’s fingers stretched her so tightly, and she only wanted more.

Violet collapsed back onto the bed. Her breathing was ragged and hitched. Her body trembled lightly, draining of any tension she had. Lips pressed against her brow softly and she opened her eyes.

Clementine’s face was close; her eyes were wide and her pupils so large. Sweat stuck curls pressed against her forehead and cheek, and her breath was fast and shaky. Clementine searched her eyes, and Violet quickly closed the gap to share a brief, sweet kiss. She tried grinning. Maybe only halfway succeeded. Clementine hummed and pressed her face into Violet’s neck, breathing deeply.

Clementine slowly slid her fingers out and away. Violet whimpered softly at the loss, which immediately turned into a groan as Clementine brought her slick fingers up and into her mouth. Clementine shut her eyes and sighed as she used her tongue and lips to capture any and all fluid. Violet shuddered and the ache in her gut blazed hot again. She couldn’t believe how quickly and deeply Clementine could turn her on.

Finished with her fingers, Clementine draped herself over Violet and pressed her mouth against hers, tongue parting her lips easily. Violet groaned into her mouth at the first taste of herself, sharp and rich on her tongue. Clementine deepened the kiss until Violet was spinning. When they parted from one another, they both struggled to get their breathing under control. Clementine snickered softly.

“Holy shit.”

Both girls chuckled, and Clementine eased off of Violet and pressed close, draping her leg across her hips and nestling her hand on her chest. Violet tugged at the rumpled sheets and pulled them up and around their cooling bodies. She held Clementine close while her fingers traced soft patterns along her thigh and she sighed contentedly.

The moments drifted by, and as they caught their breath, Violet let herself enjoy being present. She was happy, and for the first time in as long as she could remember, she was safe. She had forgotten what that was like.

Clementine’s voice was soft and languid. “Violet?”

“Mmm?”

“What was that song you sang back in the clinic?” Clementine asked. Violet continued tracing lazy circles against Clementine’s thigh.

“Something my mom used to sing to me when I was little. You liked it?”

“I liked hearing you sing it. You have a beautiful voice.” Violet smiled even as she blushed. She snorted and Clementine raised her head to look at her. “What? I can’t compliment my girlfriend?” she teased. Warmth bloomed in Violet’s chest at Clementine’s use of the word _girlfriend_.

“Shit, that reminds me - you sure you’ve never done that before? I mean,” Violet chuckled, “ _fuck_.” Clementine’s cheeks flushed, and she smiled.

“It was alright?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah. Understatement of the year.” Clementine’s smile grew wider. She reached up and pushed strands of hair behind Violet’s ear. She let her hand rest on her chest, right above Violet’s heart.

Clementine ducked her head, suddenly shy. When she met Violet’s eyes again, her cheeks were burning.

“I really love touching you,” she whispered.

Violet couldn’t believe how quickly her heart rate elevated – how her pulse literally leapt at her throat. She hummed softly and kissed Clementine’s warm cheek as she basked in the solid weight of her body draped over her own. Clementine reached out and turned the light off and then settled herself back on Violet.

“You’ve never mentioned your parents before,” Clementine observed, softly. Violet unconsciously stiffened and her heart picked up its pace. Clementine pressed her lips to her jaw, her cheek. She leaned back to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry. I… I feel like I want to know everything about you. But I get it. We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to talk about.”

Violet sighed and fought back tears. She didn’t want her parents tainting this moment; she didn’t want to give them that. She nodded, took a deep breath and gave Clementine a ghost of a smile.

“Sometime… just… not now, okay?” Violet hated how small her voice sounded. Clementine nodded and tucked her head back to Violet’s shoulder.

“Of course.”

Violet continued tracing patterns on Clementine’s thigh. She breathed through her anxiety, inordinately pleased with herself for not shedding a single tear.

The moments passed and Violet was lulled by Clementine’s even breathing. She thought she may have already fallen asleep. Just as she was drifting off, Clementine spoke. Her voice was soft with sleep.

“I love you, Violet.”


	7. Black and Blue Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! For those of you who skipped the last chapter.
> 
> We found out that Violet's relationship with Minerva was emotionally manipulative / abusive. Both Violet and Clementine pushed through their grief and insecurities and allowed themselves to be vulnerable with one another. 
> 
> There IS a little more sexual content in this chapter, but it is short and less explicit than the previous chapter. I'll separate it with 00000 before and after. There is also self-harm.
> 
> Chapter title taken from a Tegan and Sara song - 'White Knuckles.'
> 
> Thanks for reading!!

Shouts woke her up; she found herself tangled in her sheets, in her dorm bed, back at Ericson’s. Violet blinked, suddenly wide awake as she heard cries for help and the frightened whinny of horses. Flames outside her window scattered violent shadows across the walls, and she was up. She quickly slammed her feet into her boots and burst through her door, meat cleaver in hand. There was a panic of light and voices coming from the courtyard as she ran full speed down the hall. The graffitied walls were a blur and broken glass crunched under her boots; her heart pounded high in her throat.

She burst through the hall doors and smoke enveloped her. The acrid air burned her lungs and her eyes watered as she crouched low to the ground behind an overturned picnic table. She heard shouting and the crack of gunfire. Through the haze of smoke, she saw Louis across the courtyard, grappling with a man twice his size. She watched helplessly as the bigger man sunk a blade into Louis’s throat, his blood arcing away as he dropped to his knees before collapsing.

“Louis!”

Her voice tore from her throat even as she closed in on the man, cleaver raised high. Another crack of gunfire and blinding pain sent her sprawling onto her side. Searing agony snaked through her body every time she pulled in a breath. As she was hauling herself to her feet, lungs burning, a powerful arm wrapped around her neck, cutting off her air supply.

“Keep still,” the woman murmured. Panic overwhelmed her even as the arm loosened enough for her to take a quick breath. That voice… Teeth clamped down on her ear sharply; the pain shot behind her eyes and she swore. Then, in a voice suffused with honey, her assailant muttered in her ear. “Miss me, babe?” Violet’s eyes went wide as realization set in.

“Minnie?” she choked out. Minerva’s melodic laughter cut through the chaos of the fight, and then a swift kick to the back of her legs sent Violet’s knees slamming painfully into the ground. Minerva’s arm returned to her neck, immovable and thick, even as Violet clutched and pulled. 

She was helpless as she caught glimpses of her friends and the raiders through the smoke and rubble. She didn’t want to look at the bodies scattered on the ground, didn’t want to identify them. Too many looked small - young, broken bodies. Mitch. Willy. Omar. Tears streaked down her face and panic beat in her chest. _No. No, no, no_.

“Violet!”

Her eyes snapped to the source of the shout, and she watched Clementine let an arrow fly, which sunk into the neck of the raider that had taken down Louis. In another heartbeat she was drawing her bow taut and steadying it over Violet’s shoulder, Minerva in her sights.

“Let her go,” Clementine called, her voice impossibly steady and assured. Violet felt a surge of hope beat back her panic for just a breath. Minerva snickered as she tightened her grip around her neck.

“Is that your new little girlfriend? Your knight in shining armor?” Minerva’s hot breath brushed against her neck; her tone was low and sultry. “Does she get you wet like I did, Vi?” she whispered in her ear, as Violet choked and gagged.

Violet was helpless as she watched a raider stealthily approach Clementine from behind. She struggled against Minerva, tried calling out a warning, but it was too late; she watched in terror as the raider leveled his pistol with her head and fired.

The sound hammered in Violet’s head, deafening. As if in slow motion, she watched through her hot tears as blood burst from Clementine’s temple, her amber eyes going wide an instant before losing their light; her body crumpled in a heap.

Minerva’s grip tightened further as she crooned terrible, awful things in Violet’s ear, _see what you did, Vi, you fucking coward_ and she still couldn’t breathe, _you pathetic, weak, piece of shit, you did this_ she couldn’t think, her panic and grief crushed her pounding heart as everything faded. She refused to look away from Clementine’s body; willed it to be a mistake, for her to get up and move; even as she struggled to focus, _you can’t do anything right, you couldn’t save anyone_ even as her body slackened in Minerva’s grasp _you can’t save her_ and her words reverberated in Violet’s skull with the last frantic beats of her heart _you can’t save her, you can’t save her, you can’t_ -

Violet shot up in bed, gasping for air while she blinked through her panic. She was frantic as she tried to take in her surroundings. Their bedroom - the grey light of day filtered through the curtains, filling the space and holding it still. She could still feel Minerva’s arm around her neck with every rapid beat of her heart in her throat - no matter how much she heaved, she couldn’t fill her lungs. She felt the stinging pain of her broken rib – her bullet wound? – and choked on a sob, tears flowing from her eyes.

She sucked in breath after breath, the sheets clinging to her sweat slicked body. The cool, clean air finally filled her lungs and slowly tempered the beat of her heart.

As her breathing evened out and her heartbeat settled into a more comfortable pace, Violet’s guilt tangled in her throat. She mumbled a variety of curses under her breath, closing her eyes. She pulled in a long, full breath, held it, and exhaled just as slowly. _It was just a nightmare_ , she told herself, _that’s it. You’re okay. Clementine’s okay_.

She swiped at her eyes with her palm and looked around. Clementine was already up. Taking another cleansing breath, Violet collapsed down onto her back, pressing both hands against her eyes until she saw light sparkle behind her lids.

“Shit,” she breathed, dropping her arms to her side. She willed herself to focus on the rise and fall of her chest. Her gaze latched on an uneven patch on the ceiling as she tried to be as present in her body as possible. Her mind’s eye flashed to flickering light, bodies on the ground, Clementine’s empty eyes…

She grabbed her injured side hard and gasped as pain thundered through her torso, sharp and deep. She released her grip and exhaled through it, her body trembling slightly, as more tears streaked down her face. “ _Fuck_.”

She sat up, huffed a few more shaky breaths and wiped her face with her hands. Squeezing her eyes shut, she repeated her mantra _just a nightmare, you’re okay, Clementine’s okay_ in her head until the words lost their meaning and her tears stopped flowing. Opening her eyes, she stared dully at the grey wall in front of her; the benign landscape painting hanging in its frame giving her an absurdly calm sense of safety.

She took a few moments to breathe and be still. Then, she glanced around and grabbed the towel she had dropped yesterday, wrapped herself and headed to the shower.

****

After her shower, she layered up and walked downstairs. Everything was quiet – both Carol and Clementine were not in the house. Violet was ravenous, and she poked around in the cabinets and refrigerator until she could cobble together a meal. She would have to ask Carol about the arrangement here and how she could start earning her keep. For the moment, she perched on the kitchen island and let her eyes wander the space, absent-mindedly shoving fork-fulls of her meal into her mouth.

She worked hard at keeping the memory of her nightmare at bay. Instead, she focused on the flavor of her food, the way the early morning light cast the room in cool color, the feeling of her chest expanding with every breath and the pounding ache in her side from her vicious treatment - anything at all to keep her mind on the present.

The front door opened and Clementine walked in, eyes finding Violet’s as a full smile beamed across her face. Violet’s heart stilled at the sight of her; her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her eyes were flashing with happiness as she shut the door behind her.

“Hey,” Clementine said, her cheeks burning brighter. 

Violet grinned at her. “Hey.” 

Clementine took a hesitant step forward, and then quickly closed the gap between them. She stood between Violet’s dangling legs, hands settled on her waist, and her lips were pressed against Violet’s before she knew what was happening. She put down her bowl of food and found Clementine’s hips with her hands, pulling her closer as Clementine sighed. Violet hooked her calves around Clementine’s and melted into the kiss.

What started off soft and affectionate quickly turned heated. Violet coaxed Clementine’s mouth open and swept her tongue against hers. Her face flushed and warmth settled in her chest. Clementine’s hand left Violet’s waist and hooked behind her neck, holding her close.

When they parted, Violet’s thoughts were racing, and she found herself, yet again, trying to ease the pounding of her heart. Their foreheads rested against one another as they both took shallow, shaky breaths. Violet attempted to ignore the slow throb between her legs.

Clementine blew out a long breath. She pressed her lips to Violet’s cheek as she pulled back, gazing into her eyes.

“Well,” Clementine began, “good morning.” Violet grinned and ducked her head, heat burning bright in her cheeks.

“You eat anything?” Violet asked, offering her half-finished meal.

“I ate before I left this morning,” she said, as she hoisted herself up on the island next to Violet. Violet continued to eat, enjoying the warm pressure of Clementine’s thigh pressed against her own. “I took a walk – this place is huge. It’s amazing that it’s lasted this long.”

Violet hummed. “Sounds like they’ve been through it, you know?” 

Clementine inclined her head, nodding slightly.

“Yeah… yeah, it does,” she said, her features settled into a frown. Violet paused and dropped the fork full in her hand back in the bowl.

“What is it?” Violet asked.

Clementine slowly shook her head, thoughtful. She chewed on her lip absentmindedly. “It’s just… I’ve been to places like this. Big walls. Lots of people.” She met Violet’s eyes, shrugged a shoulder. “They never last.” 

Violet’s brows furrowed as she took in that information, and her gaze lowered back to the bowl of food.

There was still so much about Clementine’s past that she didn’t know - so many years she and A.J. had spent surviving out in the world. When she thought about it, the things Clementine had been through intimidated Violet. She had always of thought herself as a fighter, as a survivor. Yet, her entire experience of the apocalypse had been within the relative isolation of the school, which insulated her from so many of the horrors of the new world. Clementine had been through it all. She couldn’t even imagine what that must have been like.

She ghosted a smile at Clementine as she reached out for her hand. She ran her finger along the blunted stub of Clementine’s ring finger, which reinforced, in Violet’s mind, the horrors that her girlfriend had undoubtedly gone through.

“We’re going to find A.J. and Tenn,” Violet said with resolve. “We can figure everything else out after, okay?” Clementine gave her a small smile in return, nodded slightly.

“Yeah. Sounds like a plan.”

****

The air was chilly, reminding Violet that she would need to acquire a couple more layers before winter settled in. It was easy to forget that she had left her things back at Ericson’s because she never had much in the way of possessions to begin with.

She took the long way to the clinic, observing all the people coming and going, some with purpose and some without. She caught the curious stare of a girl – Violet had seen her the day before; the sheriff’s hat was hard to miss. The girl was bundled up, sitting on a stoop with what looked like a textbook in her lap. Violet averted her eyes and looked at her feet, irrationally unnerved by the kid’s steady gaze. There was something calculating in that look – like she was trying to figure out if she needed to worry about Violet.

She meandered her way to the wall – fifteen feet of steel that was the difference between life and death. Violet walked along, head bowed, fingers trailing along the cold metal, and thought about what Clementine had said. She was having a hard time reconciling Clementine’s experience with her own. She couldn’t get past the idea that there had to be some place safe. Some community out there that kept it together, that could survive together. She scoffed at herself. _Like the school was safe? Go ahead, dig your head in the sand, Vi. That’ll keep you and Clem safe_.

She stopped, craned her neck up at the wall, and huffed her frustration. It just didn’t end. While she was struggling to hang on, she had no idea what that even meant anymore. Was she holding on to the concept of safety because that was something she had never had growing up? Maybe she had put too much faith in the school because it was the first time in her life that she had felt reasonably secure. Violet liked to think Ericson’s wasn’t an illusion, but she couldn’t deny that it hadn’t lasted. Most of the people she cared anything at all about in this world were dead, their home now burnt out rubble.

She knew nothing about what it meant to survive this world.

Violet shivered and shoved her hands in her pockets. As she was turning away from the wall, she caught sight of jagged lines in the metal. She crouched down, running her fingers across the scraped letters etched into the support beam - JSS. Cocking her head, she stood and made her way to the clinic.

****

The clinic was almost too warm after the biting wind. Violet shut the door and nodded a greeting to Siddiq before heading over to Aasim’s bedside. He was sitting up in bed, writing in the notebook she had picked up for him at the market. The look of concentration on his face was endearing. She just stood next to him, hands in her pockets with a smirk on her face, while he was lost in his writing.

“Not much coulda happened since last night… maybe give the diary a rest?” Aasim started at the sound of her voice. He rolled his eyes, but gave her a small smile.

“You know, it’s a histor -" 

“A history book, yeah, sure,” Violet cut in. They smiled softly at their familiar banter, and Violet lowered herself into the chair next to him. “How ya doing?” she asked. Aasim’s smile faded, but his expression was steady.

“Okay. Got some sleep last night,” he said. Violet nodded thoughtfully, knowing he probably hadn’t had an evening of uninterrupted sleep in weeks.

The silence between them was easy. She appreciated that Aasim never felt like he had to take up space - a common trait in boys she found endlessly annoying.

She and Aasim had never not gotten along, exactly. They had just never been close. He had always been reading something, writing, or quietly hanging around Mitch and Willy. She had been consumed with Minerva, blithely isolating herself from almost everyone else. The few times they had shared a moment together were always outside the walls, hunting for the group or clearing walkers. They had learned to respect and trust one another.

Everyone had teased him for being too serious. He was never satisfied with a day’s success out hunting – instead, he was planning how they’d find their next meal. As far as she was concerned, Aasim had been a huge asset to the group. Violet had respected him, and in fact felt a kinship to him with his way of thinking. Most of the kids were just that – kids. Except for Marlon, and to some extent Brody, Aasim was one of the few that understood the gravity of their situation. After everything they went through, their affection for each other could finally be expressed with genuine friendship.

An ache tightened in her chest as she thought again of how Aasim must have been feeling. It was no secret that he had harbored feelings for Ruby for quite some time. Louis had always tried to encourage him to express his feelings to her. Ruby’s death was something that she was still processing, and they hadn’t been close. To watch the person you cared about die such a brutal death was unthinkable for Violet. She would have crumbled if that had been Clementine. She couldn’t even fathom what he was going through; couldn’t imagine having the strength to go on.

Violet leaned back in the chair and glanced around the room. The doctor was tending to another patient in the corner – one of his assistants was rummaging through a collection of medication. Aasim was the one to break the silence.

“Doc said I was good to go whenever. Figured today was as good a day as any.”

She stood up. “Well, let’s get the fuck outta here, then.”

****

The day went by quickly. Violet and Clementine helped Aasim settle into their new home. He was more overwhelmed with the space than they had been. He would rely on crutches for a while, and the physical exertion of getting to the house combined with the emotional adjustments had him begging off to rest shortly after he arrived. Violet didn’t blame him. It was taking everything in her not to go upstairs and curl up into bed herself.

Clementine was in the kitchen, putting the kettle on. Violet perched on the kitchen island, arms resting on her thighs. She was exhausted; so impatient with herself for being exhausted. Clementine leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over her chest.

“You doing okay?” she asked. 

Violet met her gaze through the curtain of her hair. She gave her a small shrug of her shoulder.

“Just tired,” Violet said. She didn’t know how to talk about the things weighing her down. Part of her was afraid of how Clementine would react when she found out she had no idea what she was doing. She was frightened that it would shatter the tenuous illusion of her strength in Clementine’s eyes; that she’d just become another liability for her. Her heart broke a little knowing that Clementine would realize she had made a mistake in putting her faith in her.

“Yeah… I definitely feel that,” Clementine said softly. She huffed an impatient breath. The water came to a boil and Clementine prepared two cups of coffee. Violet smiled as she accepted a mug.

“Now I get why A.J. called your camp stove your ‘coffee maker’,” she teased. Clementine grinned at her. She held the mug in both hands, as if pulling every bit of warmth from it as she hummed.

“Maaaybe I _might_ have emphasized finding coffee when we were scavenging.” They both smiled as they settled into silence, sipping on their coffee and mulling over their own thoughts.

Violet set her mug down and absentmindedly picked at her fingers. “What do you think of Carol?” 

Clementine seemed surprised by the question, but took a moment to consider. Her head cocked to one side.

“I’m still figuring her out,” she said. “I think there’s more to her than she lets on. What about you?” 

Violet shook her head, rolled a shoulder. “I…” she sighed. “I don’t know. I was… comfortable with her from the start. Like, she was someone I could trust, even when I was… spun out.”

Clementine nodded thoughtfully. “Seems like there’s a story there.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Violet teased. Clementine looked surprised, then her expression turned sheepish. She took a large gulp of coffee and set her mug down. When their eyes met, Violet was taken aback by the gravity of her gaze.

“We’ve all got our stories to tell, Vi,” she said, gently. 

An odd combination of warmth and anxiety churned Violet’s stomach, and she had to turn away from the intensity of Clementine’s eyes. She slid off the island and leaned back, crossing her arms across her chest.

Her inadequacies crowded her thoughts, each one jostling and shoving for supremacy. _You’re not a survivor. You’re weak. You’re a liability_. Flashes of her nightmare made her spine go cold, and she took a deep, steadying breath.

“Some more than others,” she mumbled. Stewing in her own insecurities, Violet didn’t notice Clementine’s approach until hands settled on her hips. She raised her head sharply and stared into Clementine’s big, amber eyes. Time seemed to stop as she watched the minute changes of color in her irises swirl and eddy. Gentle fingers reached out and brushed her hair back, settling on the nape of her neck. Violet’s breath seemed to catch and she couldn’t comprehend this, how right this felt, how everything else – all of her insecurities and fears - seemed distant and inconsequential. It made her want to be better, to be more vulnerable and open.

She unfurled her arms and placed her hands on Clementine’s shoulders. She was compelled by a powerful urge to speak, to tell Clementine everything. Before she could marshal her thoughts together, Clementine’s lips brushed hers. The whimper that escaped her throat was muffled as they came together; lips and tongue feeding a fire that shimmered through Violet’s body to her very core.

00000

Clementine pressed her body against her own, all soft curve and firm muscle, and it was like she was filling in all of Violet’s gaps. It was intense, and it was staggering; all of her body pinpricks of electricity; raw desire stretched her physical limits and ripped a high keening whimper out of her lungs. Clementine tore away from her, and she clasped her hand to Violet’s and led her across the living room, up the stairs, and into their room.

Violet suddenly found herself on her back; Clementine was straddled above her with fire in her eyes. They flung away their clothes and when Clementine kissed her, it was with her entire body. Skin and muscle and bone writhed against her, finding purchase on the sharp planes of her own body; the jut of her hips and the sinewy cords of her thighs.

Clementine’s hands were grasping, twisting, and smoothing all over her skin. Heat built painfully in Violet’s core and scorched her flesh, and Clementine’s mouth blazed fire as she swept their tongues together. Clementine’s firm fingers sought the wet heat between her thighs, stretched into her, and began to hammer out a beat with her heart; her cries tore from her lungs with every pounding thrust.

Violet drew her knees up and dragged her nails down Clementine’s back, her body opening up even as she was terrified of being so exposed. She heard a sobbed wail escape her lips, and she brought her teeth down hard against Clementine’s shoulder. Her climax was fast and hard and unrelenting; her entire body arched back, shoulders indenting the mattress below her while Clementine clung onto her and continued her unyielding pace.

It was as if she was being taken outside of herself – away from who she thought she was and pulled right back into her body. Clementine was forceful and she was intent, and it was that intention that comforted Violet even as she teetered on the edge of overwhelm, pleasure bordering on pain bursting behind her eyelids as she was pitched right into her second orgasm. The hoarse wails and hitched sobs and whining moans tumbled out of her mouth as her body shuddered and shook around Clementine’s hand; in Clementine’s arms.

Her chest heaved and her body trembled. She couldn’t breathe as panic flooded her senses. Then, Clementine’s arm was cradling her head and there were soft, comforting words swirling around her. She took great shuddering breaths as tears ran down her cheeks and she was released. She wrapped her arms around Clementine; her hitched breathing turned into full-blown sobs that wracked her body anew. She buried her face into Clementine’s shoulder, her body shaking in her arms as she cried through all of her guilt, all of her shame and feelings of inadequacy. She cried out her grief, and she cried out her gratitude.

Clementine’s arms were solid around her, anchoring her as she gently rocked them back and forth, murmuring soft words into her ear. The smells of sweat and sex and something unique to Clementine wrapped around Violet like a blanket, holding them close amidst the tempest of her release. Her sobbing made way to soft whines and all the while Clementine held her with stability and care.

00000

When Violet’s heaves had finally stilled and her body unfurled, Clementine arranged herself around her thin frame, arm and leg draped firmly across her. Her face pressed into Violet’s neck as she continued to murmur comforting words to her.

Violet felt so small in Clementine’s embrace, but it wasn’t frightening. It was like a weight had been lifted from her very spirit, and she had an odd sensation that she would just float away without Clementine’s body keeping her grounded. She trailed light fingers along her back, tracing delicate skin and hard bone; she felt as if she were drifting and yet fully present.

Their even breathing was the only thing to interrupt the silence cocooning them. After a while, as sensations and impressions gave way to thoughts and narrative, Violet pulled in a deep breath and let herself fall.

“My dad used to hit me,” she began, her voice harsh and cracking. “My mom worked three jobs to support us. I… never really saw her.” Violet took a deep, fortifying breath and continued.

“I’d run away when it got real bad. Sometimes I’d be gone for days. Sometimes, I’d just climb on top of our trailer and stare up at the stars and wish I could just fly away. It was always worse when I got back.” Clementine was so still against her - as if she was holding her breath.

“After this one time, my mom started sending me to my grandma’s after school. On weekends. Mom would pick me up late, and usually my dad would be passed out. It worked for a while.” There was a tension in the air that clawed at Violet and seeped into her skin. It made her so very aware of her voice, deafening in her ears even though she was sure she was barely whispering. “You know the next part – about grandma killing herself.” Clementine murmured an agreement.

“The night of her funeral, my dad came at me. He’d been shit-faced the entire day, and when we got home, he laid into me. Hurt me pretty bad. My mom tried to stop him and he hit her and wouldn’t stop hitting her. I thought he was gonna kill her. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen, and I… I stabbed him.”

Her memories from that night were equally vague and crystal clear. She remembered feeling like she had been floating above her body as he pummeled her with his fists, clinically acknowledging what the pain in her body was telling her – her face swelled with a black eye and busted lip, her clavicle was broken, a tooth knocked free. But it didn’t feel real.

What felt real and what she could clearly recall was the solid weight of the knife handle in her hand, the flash of cool steel reflecting the fluorescent track lighting, the way the knife tore through clothing and skin and pushed right up into his gut with all the force she could muster. The revulsion and the elation and the terror that she felt as all of that blood came pouring out, blooming on his clothes; pouring onto her hand and her wrist, hot and slick.

Violet’s throat constricted, and she worked her jaw hard. She took another deep breath and closed her eyes.

“My dad was locked up. My mom, she… she just fell apart. I think she couldn’t live with what happened - with what she let happen. So, she sent me away to Ericson’s.” When Violet opened her eyes, she fixed on that same uneven spot on the ceiling, tempered her breath and swallowed the little tendrils of fear that snaked into her throat. “I, uh… I’ve never told anyone that.” Violet fixed her eyes to Clementine. She saw sadness pulling at her features, and something underneath that she couldn’t quite identify. “I just… wanted to tell you, I guess.”

There was silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Violet felt an unexpected sense of relief, as if her experience was made real by her words, but also confined and reduced in a way that made it easier for her to look at. 

Clementine’s hand gently smoothed over her chest, stilling right above her heart. “You must have been young,” she murmured. 

One side of Violet’s lips quirked humorlessly, and she met Clementine’s gaze.

“I was ten,” she said, softly. Clementine’s eyes closed slowly, and she breathed out long and even. When she opened her eyes, her full brows were furrowed and her eyes contained such sadness.

“I’m so sorry, Violet,” she breathed. The warmth and comfort of those words swelled in Violet’s chest and lightly held her heart. She saw no judgement in Clementine’s eyes; no fear or revulsion. Violet let out a long breath, brought her hand up to where Clementine’s rested on her chest, and held her eyes.

She realized then that she hadn’t put her feelings for Clementine into words. She wanted so much for it to not feel as terrifying as it did, knowing she had nothing to fear. The words were weighted and heavy in her mouth. She took another deep breath and let herself be vulnerable.

“I love you, Clementine,” she whispered.


	8. Set it Light and Set it Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a tiny, non-explicit sex scene in this chapter. 
> 
> Also, I know I tagged 'slow build' on this fic, so thanks again for sticking with it. I anticipate things heating up in the next couple of chapters or so. 
> 
> I'd love to hear more of your thoughts - constructive criticism is always appreciated and welcomed! 
> 
> Chapter title taken from the PJ Harvey song 'Man-Sized.'

That evening, after sharing a meal, Clementine, Aasim and Violet gathered in the living room. Clementine started a fire, and soon they were all lost in thought to the flickering shadows cast around the room. It wasn’t late, but Violet could tell that both Clementine and Aasim were struggling with exhaustion. It made her feel moderately better about how tired she was.

Clementine sat next to her on the couch, leaning back in the crook of her shoulder, Violet’s arm draped around her. The soft scrape of pencil on paper as Aasim wrote lulled Violet into a sense of tranquility. It surprised her that she could maintain the peace she felt after her disclosure to Clementine.

“So, um,” Aasim began. Violet hadn’t even noticed that he had stopped writing. “You two a thing now?” Violet’s eyebrow quirked up, and he immediately flushed. “I mean, that’s totally great,” he blustered, “I, just, ah… was curious. For the book,” he finished, looking, to Violet’s mind, appropriately embarrassed. Clementine chuckled, which eased some tension in the room.

“Yeah,” she said, craning her head back and smiling wide at Violet, “we’re a thing.” She turned back to Aasim. “You can write that in your journal,” she said, and winked. Violet snorted a laugh, and Aasim looked sheepish. He mumbled something under his breath and went back to writing.

Violet grinned and pulled Clementine in closer to her, acutely conscious of how well her small body fit against her own. Her thoughts wandered back to the afternoon. The memory of the softness of Clementine’s skin was enough to send a shiver through her body. She was thankful for the dim light as her face flushed, but Clementine leaned to look up at her and quirked a smile.

Aasim cleared his throat. “So, what’s the plan? Is this, like, home now?” The crackling of the fire filled the resulting quiet as Violet mulled over the question. Clementine was first to break the silence.

“For now, I guess so,” she said. “We’ve got to find A.J. and Tenn. After that, well… we’ll figure it out when we get there.” Aasim frowned as he considered the information.

“They mostly seem like good people,” he said, thoughtfully. 

Clementine sighed. “Yeah. They do.”

Aasim, thick brows furrowed, ducked his head and went back to writing. Clementine turned slightly, wrapped an arm around Violet’s waist and burrowed her face against her neck. Violet closed her eyes, let the warm glow of the fire dance behind her eyelids, and tried to distract herself from the thrum of excitement tingling under her skin. She was shocked at how suddenly her desire could overwhelm her exhaustion. She shifted slightly and took a few long, grounding breaths.

She was surprised by how new all of this felt. How Clementine would look at her - the lust that would light up her eyes and take Violet completely by surprise – was something that she had never had before. Minerva would want Violet to touch her, in fact she’d demand it occasionally, but she would rarely care to reciprocate. A single breath uttered by Minerva would praise Violet’s efforts in getting her off while also asserting the reasons she wouldn’t return the favor. As far as she could remember, Minerva hadn’t once wanted her; she had just wanted the things that she could do.

Violet was sick just thinking about it; familiar feelings of shame tickled the back of her throat. She couldn’t believe how much she had clung to those words of appreciation as proof of their connection. She couldn’t believe how often and how thoroughly she had let herself be used.

Clementine sighed and sat up slightly. “I think I have to get to bed,” she said. Violet yawned and agreed. She stood up.

“You gonna be okay, Aasim?” she asked. 

He glanced up from his notebook. “Yeah. I’m going to stay up a little longer and write.”

She led the way up the stairs, Clementine trailing close behind her. Away from the fire, Violet noticed how chilled the house was. In their bedroom, she quickly pulled her heavier layers off, eager to get under the comforter. She noticed Clementine watching her and warmed under her gaze.

She glanced down at herself; saw her flat chest poke against the cotton of her shirt, her flatter stomach shifting into straight hips and skinny thighs, and again marveled that she could have such an effect on Clementine. A scowl pulled at her lips as she wondered how many of her negative thoughts about herself had been cultivated by Minerva.

Warm arms wrapped around her stomach; the press of Clementine’s body against her back was steady and strong. Violet melted into the touch, tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and sighed. Clementine’s face pressed against her, fitting perfectly in the space between her neck and shoulder. She covered Clementine’s arms with her own and held on tight. Abruptly, images from her nightmare flashed across her closed lids, and a tiny sound escaped her throat as she saw Clementine fall…

“Clem?” Her voice sounded grating to her own ears, raspy and small. She tightened her grip around the strong arms holding her.

“Mmm?”

Violet swallowed at the lump in her throat and took a deep breath.

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

Clementine pressed her face against her neck. Her soft lips against her skin made a lazy but deliberate trail along her jaw, behind her ear.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Clementine whispered. The tickle of her breath against her neck made Violet shiver, and just like that, all thoughts of sleep were banished.

Violet tried to take things slow, but their passion built quickly. She was too absorbed with Clementine to moderate their pace, and she brought them both to the edge with firm strokes and husky words. Her confidence increased with every sigh and shiver she teased from Clementine.

When Clementine’s climax hit, there was a moment of perfect stillness; her body taut on an inhale, and as the breath left her, everything seemed to fracture. Violet was euphoric. The sight and sound of Clementine in the throes of her orgasm scorched her skin and left her breathless.

She murmured soft words as Clementine’s body relaxed in her arms. Violet arranged herself along her body and pulled the sheets up around them. She brought their lips together in a soft, sweet kiss, humming with contentment. When they parted, Clementine held her eyes with her own and the smile that pulled at her lips lit up her entire face.

“I almost said it again,” she said, her eyes twinkling with delight. It took a second for Violet to catch on, but she chuckled and settled herself in the crux of her arm.

“Should we come up with some others?” Violet said. “‘Holy fuck’ would work.” Clementine snickered.

“I was always a fan of ‘Jesus, fuck’,” she said.

“How about ‘shit-sticks’?” Violet suggested. Clementine leaned back to look at her, amusement pulling at her features.

“Shit-sticks? Really, Vi?” she asked. Violet grinned sheepishly.

“It’s not my fault – I’m pretty sure you just broke my brain,” she said, letting her cheek fall back to her shoulder. 

Clementine snorted. “How am I getting blamed for anything? I’m the one who just got completely taken advantage of,” she said, smiling.

Violet hummed lightly and pulled Clementine in close. The steady rise and fall of her chest was soothing, and she was relaxed and exhausted all at once. She sighed and felt herself drifting.

“Vi?” Clementine’s tone shook her into focus; there was something hesitant in the way she said her name. Violet swallowed the lump in her throat, her mouth dry suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t ever want to lose you,” Clementine said, softly. Violet pressed her hand to the center of Clementine’s chest, right above her heart.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

****

When Violet opened her eyes, the diffuse grey light of day felt blinding. She groaned and rubbed at her eyes, pushed herself up on her elbows while she oriented herself. Clementine was still fast asleep, her features relaxed. Violet rarely saw her in such a state of reprieve. Her softened features reminded her that Clementine was so young; they both were. It was easy to forget that amid everything they had been through.

She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and settled herself back against Clementine, enjoying the stillness of the moment. She could count on one hand the nights of uninterrupted rest she had since their encounter with the Delta.

A small sound came from Clementine, setting alarm bells off in Violet. She leaned back and saw Clementine’s brows furrowed; her fingers were twitching slightly. Another sound, closer to a grunt than any word, escaped her lips and Violet’s heart picked up its pace.

She reached out and gently stroked Clementine’s cheek.

“Clem?” she said, softly. “Clem, wake up.” Clementine groaned in her sleep; her breathing turned into sharp pants. Violet put a firm hand on her shoulder and spoke sharply. “ _Clem_.”

Clementine’s eyes snapped open, and she gasped. Her chest stuttered as she hauled in breath after breath. Her eyes darted everywhere and finally met Violet’s; she reached out and touched her face, as Violet ran her hand soothingly along her trembling body.

“Hey, hey, hey… it’s okay, Clem, you’re okay,” she murmured. Clementine closed her eyes and took a couple of long, even breaths. She grasped onto Violet’s hand as she calmed herself. Violet leaned down to place her lips against her brow and cuddled closer to her. “Shh… you’re okay, Clem.”

Clementine nodded and swallowed thickly. Violet could feel her heartbeat even out, and she continued to place soft kisses on her cheek and brow. After a few more even breaths, Clementine pressed a hand to her face.

“Fuck,” she breathed. She dropped her hand and met Violet’s eyes. There was a sadness in them that pulled on her heart. She gently pressed her lips to Clementine’s.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asked when they parted. Clementine shut her eyes, blew out a long breath. After a few moments, when Violet assumed that she didn’t want to get into it, Clementine spoke.

“I was back in the cell,” she said, “listening to what they were doing to you.” She reached out and grasped Violet’s hand, pulling her closer. “It was the same as always. Then, when it stopped, when I thought you were…” Clementine took another deep breath.

“I heard A.J.,” she whispered. “He was yelling for me. He was in pain. Carter was… laughing…” Clementine met Violet’s eyes. “When I think about A.J. going through… _that_ … I just…” Clementine closed her eyes, drew in a long, deliberate breath. Violet felt her heart twist up into her throat. She desperately wanted to tell Clementine that everything would be okay – that when they found A.J., he would be fine. Her stomach churned, because she knew she couldn’t.

Instead, she curled herself tightly around Clementine; she pressed her face against her neck and offered her softness and the stability of her embrace. She felt Clementine wrap herself in her arms as she took a deep, shuddering breath.

“We’ll figure this out, Clem,” she said.

Clementine nodded, exhaled slowly.

“Yeah… yeah, I know.”

****

The days melted into weeks as they settled into Alexandria. Carol walked them through their options for contributing, and they immediately took to their responsibilities in the community. Violet worked in the greenhouse, but also took shifts in the armory, crafting arrows – a skill she had picked up from Mitch years ago. Clementine spent her days working the traps and hunting, and Aasim, with his limited mobility, mostly helped in the pantry.

The scouts that Alexandria had sent to locate Delta still hadn’t returned – they had been gone for close to two months. Violet knew that Clementine was feeling impatient. Her anxiety was palpable, and while Violet found herself grateful for the distractions of work, she wasn’t so sure keeping busy had the same restorative effect for Clementine. Violet would often catch her in deep thought, her face pulled into a tight frown while she ruminated.

Clementine’s nightmares had become more frequent. Violet couldn’t remember the last time they slept through the night, and it was taking its toll on both of them. The fatigue that she had experienced while healing from her injuries had settled into her bones, and she half-joked that Clementine’s coffee habit was the only thing keeping her up on her feet.

It didn’t help their exhaustion that they were often staying awake late. The excitement they felt for one another was only becoming more compelling, and while Violet was definitely not complaining, she couldn’t help but wonder if they should make more of an effort to quell their passion.

Every time she aimed to encourage them to sleep, her resolve would falter with a glance or a touch from Clementine. There were supremely embarrassing moments while sharing meals with Aasim and Carol, where they would meet each other’s gaze and Violet would immediately flush from the intentions clearly expressed in Clementine’s eyes. She would duck her head, hiding her warm cheeks behind her hair, even as shivers of anticipation hummed through her body.

Violet was in the armory workshop, finishing up a newly crafted arrow, carving the u-shaped notch that would hold the stone arrowhead. She had been working for the past four hours. There were several completed arrows lined up neatly beside her to show for it. It was nearing the end of her shift and the workshop was all but deserted – there was only one other young woman, putting the finishing touches on a bow.

The bow was beautiful; it looked to Violet like it was made from juniper, the wood’s natural reddish hue contrasting strikingly with the black twine of the string. She had carved intricate geometric designs in the shaft, and the grip was made from dark leather.

Violet turned her attention back to her arrow as her eyebrows furrowed. She had seen the woman in the workshop often, but had kept her head down and tended to her business, avoiding other people when she could. She wasn’t especially talkative in the best of times, and she hadn’t really felt ready to meet anyone new. She focused on carving the notch and then she started fastening the arrowhead with chord.

“You’re really good at that.”

Violet started at the voice and looked up from her work. The woman standing above her had tan skin and a narrow, sculpted face. Her black wavy hair cascaded down to her shoulders and her eyes were keen.

“Um… thanks,” Violet mumbled. The girl quirked one corner of her mouth up.

“Don’t talk much, huh?” she observed. Violet shrugged one shoulder up as a response. “I’m Cyndie.”

“Violet,” she said. Cyndie nodded her head, almost to herself, pursing her lips. Violet eyed the bow in her hands. “It’s beautiful,” she said, and nodded towards to weapon. Cyndie’s smile was genuine and bright.

“Thanks,” she said, glancing down. “I had a great teacher, back in Oceanside.”

Violet’s eyebrows furrowed, and she ducked her head down, fidgeting with her arrow. Cyndie cocked her head to one side, as if regarding her for the first time.

“So, you’re really new. I assumed you were from one of the other communities.” Violet glanced up at Cyndie, her curiosity piqued.

“Other communities?” she asked.

Cyndie lowered herself in a chair. “Yeah. For a while, there were five communities working together. Alexandria, Hilltop, The Sanctuary, Oceanside, The Kingdom…” Cyndie frowned as she listed off the names. “The Sanctuary fell first, then The Kingdom.” She eyed Violet, shrugged a shoulder. “Figured you for a Kingdom kid.”

Violet was quiet as she digested all of this information. She fiddled absentmindedly with her arrow, her fingers running along the smooth surface. Her world was getting so much larger.

“So, where did you come from?” Cyndie asked.

Violet frowned as she thought of Ericson’s. Her grief curled in her chest and she struggled with her desire to flee, to escape this conversation and all the pain that it brought up for her. She swallowed thickly and forced herself to speak.

“I, uh…” her voice cracked with emotion, but she pressed on. “I was at a boarding school… from the start.” Violet felt her face heat up, and she internally kicked herself for her awkwardness. “Another group came, and, uh… not a lot of us made it.” Violet ducked her head again and stared at her hands, willing the anxiety in her chest away. She took a couple of full breaths, her ears buzzing, and she didn’t notice Cyndie move until a warm hand covered her own. She flinched, but didn’t move her hand away.

“I’m sorry,” Cyndie said, softly. Something in her tone made Violet meet her eyes, and when she did, she could see all the pain and grief that Cyndie carried with her. She was empathizing with Violet, sharing her pain while also attempting to steady her. There was a heaviness that settled between them and Violet could only nod slightly in acknowledgement, withdrawing her hands away and into her lap.

“Yeah, well, it’s over now,” she mumbled, lowering her gaze. She could feel Cyndie’s eyes on her and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. After a few moments, Cyndie pushed back in her chair and stood up.

“I’ll be seeing you around,” she said. Violet nodded, eyes fixed on her hands. She didn’t look up until she heard the door closing behind Cyndie. She quickly stowed away the finished arrows and went about cleaning up her workstation, her thoughts racing as she processed her conversation with Cyndie. Her embarrassment abated, and by the time she was sliding her arms in her jacket, she had almost forgotten her painfully awkward interaction with the girl. Instead, she had an urgent desire to learn more about the group they found themselves a part of.

The sun was already setting as she walked back to the house. Her thoughts raced as she tried to sort out the implications of everything Cyndie said. Perhaps her hope of finding a safe haven wasn’t as impossible as she had feared.


	9. Try Not to Panic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a relatively short chapter! I'll definitely try to make up for it in the next few.

Their next day off, Carol suggested that Violet and Aasim get in some hand gun training. She explained that everyone residing in Alexandria had to be acquainted with all of their weapons. Violet didn’t object. Neither one of them had held a gun, let alone fired one. The more skills she had in this world, the better.

Carol took them to the armory, and they signed out two pistols, silencers and a carton of ammunition. Violet followed along as Carol led them to the target range. She was grateful for the coat and gloves that she recently acquired, as the temperature was falling swiftly. She was sure snow would fall any day now.

They had the range to themselves. There were four lanes set side by side with dummies made of straw and tattered fabric at the far ends. Carol went through the correct way to load ammunition, hold the handgun, and engage the safety. She then demonstrated proper posture as she fired off a few rounds in quick succession. Violet could see that all the bullets had made contact with the head of the dummy.

“The most important thing to focus on is accuracy. It’ll take a while to learn, but with regular practice you both shouldn’t have any problems,” Carol said, as she unloaded the gun.

“A tip? When you’re out there, with a walker coming at you, your instinct will be to fire as soon as the gun is in front of you.” Violet watched as she raised the revolver and pulled the trigger, the gun level to her stomach. “You’ll miss. You need to get the gun up to eye level,” she continued. With one smooth movement, she swung the gun up, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

Violet picked at her fingers absently and shifted on her feet, an odd collection of nerves churning in her gut. She and Aasim practiced loading the weapons before stepping into a lane for practice. Carol paired off with Aasim, and Clementine sidled up to Violet.

She brought the handgun up level with her eyes. She supposed it couldn’t be very different from aiming a bow. Clementine stood behind her and slid her hands along Violet’s arms, correcting her position slightly. Even through the heavy fabric of her coat, shivers of excitement sparked from those fingertips and flared throughout Violet’s body.

“Okay. Looks good. It helps if you just keep your breathing even,” Clementine said, as she stepped aside. She smiled brightly at Violet. “Try it.”

Violet looked down the barrel of the gun and squinted. She brought the head of the dummy into view, inhaled, and squeezed off a round. The bullet clipped the side, and Violet pursed her lips.

“That was great,” Clementine said. Violet rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, super great that I missed,” she countered. Clementine’s smile stretched wide.

“There she is! I thought snarky Vi was gone for good,” she teased. Violet grinned in return.

“Shut up,” she said as she lifted the gun. She took aim, breathed evenly, and pulled the trigger. This time, her shot went wide and missed the target entirely. Violet huffed in annoyance. She nibbled on her lip while taking aim again. Clementine stepped close to her, and her hands lightly settled on her shoulders.

“You know, you’re really cute when you’re flustered,” she murmured.

Violet blushed furiously and tried to discreetly swat Clementine’s hands away.

“You’re the worst,” she hissed, even while she smiled. Clementine stepped back with a satisfied smile, her eyes twinkling. Violet glanced over at Aasim and noted that he was already hitting his target more often than not. She turned her attention back to her own and steadied her grip on the gun.

“Just take it slow. You got this, Vi,” Clementine said. Violet took aim and squeezed off a round. The bullet lodged into the head of the target. “Nice!”

Violet and Aasim spent the better part of an hour practicing. By the time they had used the box of ammunition, Violet was hitting the target consistently. Carol instructed them to collect all of their shells, and they returned their guns and spent casings to the armory.

“What do you do with the casings?” Aasim asked as they walked back to the house.

“We make bullets,” Carol replied.

Aasim’s eyes grew wide. “Cool. Do you think I could learn how to do that?” he asked.

Carol nodded. “I don’t see why not. I’ll introduce you to Eugene later today – he’s the mastermind behind it,” she replied, as she opened the door to their house. “Anyone else want coffee?”

Violet snickered as Clementine piped up with an enthusiastic “Yes, please.” Carol walked into the kitchen to start the boiling water. They shed their outer gear and Clementine started prodding the kindling in the fireplace. Aasim came back from his room with his notebook and settled into an armchair. Violet watched him study Clementine curiously.

“Hey, Clem?” he began, quietly. Clementine glanced over at him as she settled down next to Violet. “How’d you get that?” he asked, gesturing to her left arm. Violet could visualize the jagged scar in her mind; the wide, irregular, shiny skin travelled the entire length of her forearm.

Sometimes when she couldn’t sleep, she would study Clementine’s scars, speculating about her past. She bit her lip and eyed her girlfriend. She was curious also, but she knew it was difficult for Clementine to discuss her past.

Clementine sighed and cocked her head at Aasim. “Remember how I was scared of Rosie when I met her?” she asked.

His eyes grew wide. “A dog bit you?” Clementine nodded. “ _Shit_ ,” he breathed.

“I had to stitch it up myself,” she held up her arm, as if admiring it. “That’s why it looks so terrible,” she said, with a wry smile.

“When did it happen?” Aasim asked. Clementine made eye contact with Violet.

“About six years ago,” she said, quietly. Violet made a quick calculation; Clementine had been eleven, the same year she was shot. Violet was at a loss. How could an eleven-year-old do something like that? _Fucking hell_.

“Well, I think it makes you look like a badass,” Violet offered. Clementine’s face lit up with a bright smile.

Carol came into the room and passed out the steaming coffee. Violet murmured her thanks and took a sip, her mind racing. The things Clementine had endured continually impressed and humbled her. The more she heard about her past, the easier it was to understand her reticence about talking about it.

“You two did well today,” Carol said, pulling Violet from her reflections. “Next time, we’ll practice outside the walls with moving targets. It’s a good time to learn – the walkers are slower in the cold.”

Violet picked at her fingers and stared into the fire. She was eager to learn more, and she thought back to her conversation with Cyndie. Maybe she could ask her to teach her how to make a bow.

“Do you…” Clementine began, “do you think the scouts are alright?” Violet detected slight hesitation in Clementine’s tone.

“I’ve known Daryl since the beginning,” Carol replied. “He and Aaron know what they’re doing.” Carol’s gaze fixed on the fire and there was an abrupt stillness about her. It sounded to Violet that Carol’s assertions were for herself as much as for Clementine.

“Where were you,” Aasim began, “when, uh, everything happened?”

Carol’s eyebrows raised at the question. While she took a few moments to collect her thoughts, Violet burned with curiosity. For all the time they had all spent together, she didn’t know much about the older woman.

“We were just outside Atlanta,” Carol said, “We knew it was bad when we stopped on the highway on our way to the city. We watched the military drop napalm in the streets.” Carol’s eyes were unfocused, but her tone was steady.

“We?” Aasim asked.

“My husband and daughter,” Carol replied. Violet looked away from the distress she saw in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Aasim said hastily.

Carol gave him a wan smile in acknowledgement. “The people on the highway stuck together. That’s when I met Daryl.” She cocked her head to one side. “What about you, Clementine?” Clementine’s eyes widened as Carol put her on the spot. “Violet told me you were surviving on your own before you found the school.”

Violet bit her lip and looked down at her hands curled in her lap.

“I, uh…” Clementine began, “I was home, when everything happened. My parents were away on a business trip and I was with the babysitter. When she got bit, I hid up in my treehouse.” Violet glanced at Clementine and saw her features pulled into a frown.

“A man stumbled into the yard, looking for help. His leg was all busted up from a car wreck. He became my protector,” she said. “He taught me how to survive. He taught me…” her voice trailed off.

Violet reached out and took her hand. Clementine gave her a ghost of a smile, and the shimmer of amber and hazel in her eyes captivated Violet. She couldn’t look away even as Clementine’s grief stabbed at her core.

“I was with a few groups after that, but they never lasted. It was just me and A.J. for the last five years. We just kept moving,” Clementine finished, furrowing her eyebrows. Violet’s thoughts strayed to A.J. and Tennessee, and her stomach churned. She didn’t want to think about what was happening to them right now.

“I’m sorry,” Carol said, gently. Clementine’s glanced at the older woman.

“For what?” she asked. Carol held her gaze.

“For A.J.,” she said, simply. Violet watched Clementine’s expression grow solemn, but she nodded an acknowledgement to Carol.

Violet turned her attention to the fire. The crackle of the embers and the scratch of Aasim’s pencil were the only sounds as the women were absorbed in their own reflections.

****

Two days later, Violet joined Carol and another woman, Dianne, for target practice outside the walls. Clementine was due for a shift working the traps and had already left by the time Violet had roused herself from sleep.

They had both been plagued by nightmares the previous evening. Violet was lucky she had fallen back to sleep for a couple of hours, but she was pretty sure that Clementine had been awake for most of the night.

It was the first time she had left the protective walls of Alexandria, and Violet felt low level anxiety churn in her stomach as the gate rolled shut behind them. She took comfort in the revolver’s weight holstered to her side.

Violet observed Dianne as they picked their way along the trail. She wore battered protective armor and her blond hair was pulled back away from her face. The tall woman hadn’t said much of anything other than a brief greeting. While not especially talkative, she seemed friendly enough. A sturdy bow was slung over her shoulders and a pistol was strapped to her side.

Carol explained that the field they normally practiced in was about a mile or so walk away. It was so cold that their breath billowed in front of them. The brisk air brought Violet fully awake. After about a half hour of walking, they broke from the trees into a wide field. There was a burnt out SUV near the center, and Carol lead the way towards it.

She stopped them by the car and dropped the duffel bag she was carrying on the hood.

“Alright,” Carol said. “Spend some time getting familiar with the weapon you have. When you’re ready, I’ll fire one round to draw any nearby walkers into the field. Dianne and I will be here as support. If we draw too many, follow our lead and we’ll head back to Alexandria.”

After Violet loaded the gun and fastened the silencer to the barrel, Carol fired a round into the air. Dianne held her bow loosely while Carol unsheathed her knife and they waited. Violet was fidgety. She knew she was with two very adept women, but she still couldn’t shake her anxiousness. When the first walker appeared in the field, Violet drew in a deep breath.

“Let it come within about twenty yards of us,” Carol suggested. “That’s about the distance you were working with at the range.” Violet held the gun up and tracked the walker as it stumbled closer. She saw another couple of walkers break from the tree line and begin their slow amble towards them.

“I’ve got eyes on them, don’t worry,” Dianne said. Violet bit her lip; her palms were clammy. She desperately wanted to wipe them on her jeans but didn’t want to appear nervous in front of them. In her periphery vision, she saw Dianne draw her bow with a graceful pull.

“Just take it slow,” Carol said.

The walker was growling and wheezing as it approached. Violet took another deep breath, sighted down the barrel, and fired. The walker kept its steady approach; she’d apparently missed entirely. Hissing under her breath, she aimed and pulled the trigger again. Blood sprayed in the air as the walker hissed and jerked to the side, the bullet having ripped through its neck. Unclenching her jaw, she forced herself to take a few even breaths before firing again. This time, blood burst from the walker’s head before it buckled to the ground. Elated, she quickly adjusted her sights on the next closest walker.

“Excellent. Keep it up,” Carol said. Dianne let loose an arrow which lodged into the walker that had gotten a little too close for comfort.

They spent the next forty minutes in much the same fashion. Violet would take down a walker, and Dianne would thin out the incoming to give her time for another shot. At one point, the three of them spread out into the field and thinned down the walkers hand to hand. Violet took the opportunity to break in her newly acquired hatchet. She missed her cleaver, but the weight of the ax felt good in her hand. She took immense satisfaction whenever the blade sunk into the skull of a walker.

When they had seen no walkers for over ten minutes, Carol announced that they should pack up and head back. Violet collected all the shells she could find and began unloading her gun.

“Keep it,” Carol said. “You should be armed out here, and it would be good for you to get used to it.”

Violet took a moment to reload, and then she secured it in her holster. Carol gathered up the bag and led the way back. Even while she knew she would need more practice, Violet’s confidence soared. She was much more certain that she’d be able to defend herself with the weapon.

“You picked it up pretty quick,” Dianne said. Violet glanced at the woman by her side and saw her smile of encouragement. She offered a small smile in return.

“Thanks,” she said, as she eyed Dianne’s bow. “I’m, uh, a pretty decent shot with a bow, so I guess that might’ve helped.” Dianne nodded.

“I think you’re right,” Dianne agreed, and turned her attention back to the trail. A silence settled around them as they walked. Violet tried to keep her tread light, studying how both of the older women walked with very little sound.

Abruptly, Carol stopped ahead of them, cocking her head and drawing her gun from its holster. Violet stopped short, fear spiking her heart, and Dianne quickly loaded her bow and peered carefully around them. The woods seemed unnaturally quiet. As Violet was pulling her gun from its holster, a crack of gunfire ripped through the stillness. Violet’s ears were buzzing. Panic flared in her chest as Dianne dropped to her knees beside her, clutching her shoulder and gasping in pain.

“Drop your weapons,” drawled a lazy voice. Carol was pivoting on her heels, and Violet saw several people with guns approach them from all sides. They were dressed in a motley assortment of military gear and carrying some serious guns. Violet thought wildly of Delta, and when she met Carol’s gaze, she watched as the older woman let her gun slip from her hands. She followed her lead, her heart leaping in her throat.

One man stepped closer. He looked to be in his early forties, with a clean-shaven face and dark, piercing eyes. He held a pistol aimed vaguely in their direction, and he gave them all a once over. “Knives, too,” he added.

Violet watched as Carol reached for her knife, her hand trembling slightly. Her features were twisted with apprehension and she dropped the weapon in front of her.

“P-please,” she sputtered, “please, don’t hurt us.” Her voice quavered as it hardly reached Violet’s ears. Carol’s breathy plea bewildered her. It went against all of Violet’s observations of her these past weeks. Her heart pounded frantically against her ribs as her brain caught up to what was happening. _We’re fucked_.

The man stepped close to Violet, towering above her, and she reflexively held her ground. He sneered down at her.

“You too, girl. Drop the ax.” Violet blinked. She glanced at Dianne, who was grimacing and clutching her wound. Then at Carol, who looked like she had withered inside herself, her fear evident. Anger blazed in Violet’s gut and she pulled the hatchet and kept it at her side. The man smirked, and then tsk’d lightly. “Now, now… you might want to reconsider. I shot your friend here in the shoulder on purpose. I ain’t gonna be so polite, next time.”

His patronizing tone and confident words ignited something inside of her, and she narrowed her eyes and gripped the ax handle securely.

“ _Violet_.” Her attention was drawn to Carol, who looked at her beseechingly. “Just… just do as he says,” she whimpered. Carol’s tone stunned violet anew, and that moment of interruption was long enough for him to swing his gun against the side of her face. Solid metal snapped against her cheek, accompanied by a hot eruption of pain. The impact forced her off balance, and the last thing she heard was Carol crying out her name before everything went dark.


	10. Just Keep Breathing

**CLEMENTINE**

Clementine walked through the woods carefully, picking her way over gnarled roots and brittle leaves. Beatrice walked next to her companionably. The two had been paired off ever since Clementine had started taking shifts outside the wall and had swiftly established a natural routine. The older woman was quiet and reflective, but she had a sharp sense of humor that, initially, took Clementine by surprise. She appreciated that they could alternate their time by being pensive or blow off steam with occasional silliness. 

They were walking back to Alexandria. As winter was settling in, they were finding fewer animals to trail. Luckily, the community’s traps had been sufficiently successful. Clementine had two large rabbits in her backpack, while Beatrice carried three.

Clementine had spent most of the morning in her head. Her exhaustion had hit her like a truck, and she thought ruefully of the last two sleepless nights. While she was becoming more adept at concealing her anxiety, it often caught up to her tenfold in the evenings. If Violet fell asleep before her, her heart would instantly start racing, almost as if a phantom Pavlov’s bell had rung. She loathed her body in those moments. She felt betrayed, out of control, and so incredibly lonely. 

She was grateful that they had called it an early day. Beatrice’s tracking skills were impressive, and Clementine knew that if she couldn’t find any trails, they just weren’t there. She would go home, shower, and try to get some rest. 

She wondered how Violet’s target practice was going. Violet hadn’t come out and said it, but she had seemed apprehensive at the prospect of leaving the walls. Clementine didn’t fault her, what with everything they went through with Delta. She just hoped that Violet was able to make the most out of training.

“You doing okay?” Beatrice asked, pulling Clementine away from her reflections. The woman’s expression was mild and sincere.

Clementine gave her a ghost of a smile. “I’m just tired.” She shifted her attention back to the trail. After a moment of indecision, Clementine continued. “I haven’t been sleeping much. I think everything just caught up with me,” she said, shrugging up one shoulder. There was silence between them, and Clementine stole a brief glance at Beatrice. The older woman’s features were pulled into a frown. She met Clementine’s gaze.

“You know, if you ever want to talk,” she said. “I, uh, was studying to be a psychologist before everything.” She shrugged. “For what it’s worth.”

Clementine smiled and again turned her attention back to the trail. She could just see the fences of Alexandria in the distance; they were almost home.

“Thanks,” she said, simply.

They continued the rest of the walk in silence. As they approached the front gate, Beatrice gave a small wave to the sentry. There were several walkers impaled by their traps around the walls, and Clementine drove her knife into the skull of the closest one. The walker was old, it’s body barely holding any flesh; her bowie knife slipped through rotten bone like butter.

The gate slid on its tracks with the rattle and squeal of metal grating against metal. Clementine stooped and wiped the thick blood and gore off of her knife, thoughts of sleep crowding her mind. As she was turning back towards the gate, she heard her name being called. 

There was a cluster of people by the gate, and then she saw Aasim. He was swinging himself toward her with his crutches, nearly stumbling over the aluminum braces. His features were twisted with grief and as she observed his approach, she saw tears track down his face. 

An abrupt and fierce notion that everything was wrong paralyzed her. It was as if she were falling; a sense of weightlessness and imminent tragedy tightened every muscle in her body and made breathing laborious. She simply watched, almost as if from outside of her body, as Aasim stopped in front of her and swiped his sleeve across his face. 

And suddenly he was telling her things that were devoid of meaning, words that drifted around her and trickled into her consciousness, but she didn’t understand. She couldn’t make sense of anything, even as her gut clenched painfully with an initial spasm of comprehension, even as her heart became heavy and hard. 

He reached out and put a steady hand on her shoulder. She wondered why he continued saying the same words over and over again, why he wouldn’t just stop, wondered why Beatrice was talking to her in a low voice. All at once, she was flooded with a surge of understanding; words had meaning again. Everything was too loud and too harsh, and then she heard what he was telling her.

“They took Vi, Clem, they took her and there was nothing we could do, I’m sorry, I couldn’t do anything, I’m so sorry.” Aasim’s words tumbled over one another and his voice cracked and then he was crying full on. Clementine felt warm suddenly; her stomach churned and her vision became vague. She saw a look of alarm on Beatrice’s face, and then there was nothing.

****

Clementine was conscious for only a moment before outright terror clutched at her throat and made it impossible for her to breathe. She sat bolt upright, her vision spinning as she took tremendous, heaving gasps of air into her lungs. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she ascertained that she was in bed, in the clinic. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and a wave of dizziness overwhelmed her. She dropped her head between her knees and kept hauling air into her lungs. 

Through her panic, she didn’t realize there was someone else with her until they spoke.

“Slow down,” Aasim said. She closed her eyes and adjusted her breathing, but could not calm her rapid pulse. Someone crouched down in front of her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Clementine,” Rosita murmured, “take some deep breaths, okay?” Clementine nodded her understanding as she continued to breathe. She could open her eyes without everything spinning, so she raised her head and peered at the two concerned faces in front of her. 

“What happened?” she demanded. 

“You passed out,” Rosita said. “Beatrice brought you here.” Clementine turned to Aasim and truly took in his expression. His features were drawn and swollen; it looked like he had been crying. Her memory returned abruptly, and she felt light-headed.

“Violet…?” she breathed. He frowned and avoided her eyes.

“Clem, I…” his voice cracked, “… they…” and he choked on his words. He stared down at his hands, shivering slightly.

“Eugene and Aasim were coming back from the metal shop,” Rosita supplied. “They saw Carol, Violet, and Dianne get ambushed. They were taken away in metal carts…” Clementine’s stomach plummeted. Delta had used horse-drawn carts to take A.J. and Tennessee. She could never purge the image of A.J. clasping onto the metal cage out of her head…

“Our scouts came back today. They found Delta,” Rosita said. Clementine met her eyes sharply. 

“We have to go after them,” she said, as she pushed herself to her feet, swaying a little. 

Rosita stood and braced her side, steadying her. “Hey… We are going after them,” she assured. “The council is meeting now.” 

Clementine closed her eyes and finally took a deep breath. She concentrated on her breathing, instead of the insidious images of Violet at Delta’s mercy crowding her thoughts…

“I’m so sorry, Clem,” Aasim whispered. Clementine turned her attention to him and recognized the strain in his features. She reached out and grasped his arm, coaxing his attention. 

“It’s not your fault,” she said. He just shook his head and averted his eyes. 

Rosita sighed and stood up. “You need to rest,” she told Clementine. “Try eating something,” she gestured to the bowl of food next to the bed, “and I’ll check back in a bit.” She turned to leave, and Clementine stood up.

“I have to go with them,” she asserted, her tone level. Rosita turned slightly and caught her eye. Her expression was hard to read. Clementine squared her shoulders unconsciously. 

Rosita nodded, almost to herself. She turned to leave.

“Get some rest,” she suggested again. “You’re going to need it.”

****

Clementine and Aasim walked back to the house, the silence heavy between them. She knew he blamed himself for what happened, and while she didn’t think he deserved to stew in that kind of guilt, she couldn’t find the energy to console him. Her heart was shattered; it felt like she was suffocating from the inside out.

It was the same back in Savannah so many years ago, watching as the cold remains of her parents stumbled along with a herd of the dead. The pressure and ache in her chest had burst open when she had seen their vacant, murky eyes and rotten wounds. 

A cruel cosmic joke gifted her the strength to save Lee from the horde. Once away from the threat of walkers, she saw that Lee was dying. He asked her to kill him, and she thought she would be broken forever. Until that moment, she had never known what it was like to be truly alone. 

The pain in her heart now recalled those two brutal experiences; those moments that cleaved fissures through her innocence that she could never piece together. She was disassociating, the horror of both her son and her lover held against their will, hurt, possibly dead… 

She was slowly spinning out of control. As she went through the motions of walking up the steps to their porch and opening the door, Clementine felt herself withdrawing and hardening. She was descending into a quiet focus and said something unremarkable to Aasim as she scaled the stairs.

Standing in the doorway of their bedroom, eyes shifting over the furniture bathed in midafternoon light, she settled her gaze on the bed. The sheets on Violet’s side of the bed were tossed aside carelessly, as if she were in a rush this morning. 

Clementine closed her eyes and breathed deeply, and imagined for a second that she could catch Violet’s scent. She allowed that illusion to drift inside of her, to fill her up as she sought to buoy her heart. 

Her thoughts wandered further, to all the evenings they shared in this room. The specter of Violet’s body traced delicate patterns behind her eyelids, and her heart grew heavy and swollen in her throat. An acute spasm of grief stabbed her chest, forcing her to suck in a sharp breath. She clenched her jaw tight and opened her eyes as hot tears streaked down her cheeks. Drawing deep, shuddering breaths, she refused to succumb to the sobbing wreck she knew she could be. 

Clementine crouched low, perching on her heels, and brushed at her face with her sleeves. She clenched her teeth and growled low in her throat, willing her weakness away. Huffed a few forceful breaths. She wanted to crush something - wanted to slam her fists into the wall until her knuckles split and bled; until the bones in her hands snapped and shattered so she could forget the pain in her chest. 

She thought of A.J. suddenly. His tendency to lash out physically when he was angry was something she constantly sought to redirect. She used her advice to him now; she lay a palm on the floor to steady herself and inhaled deeply and slowly. Her heart fluttered in her throat, but she kept up her calm breathing, internally coaching herself. _Just breathe, just keep breathing_. 

Her anger abated with each breath. It left her exhausted, but centered. Her mind could now consider the next steps she needed to take. She stood up slowly and walked to the bathroom. Running cool water, she splashed her face and then studied herself in the mirror. Her reflection was all hard edges and frenetic energy. Her emotional turmoil left reminders of their existence under her eyes and in her drawn features. She resolved to hold out hope for the best. She would find Violet; she would find A.J..

 _Just. Keep. Breathing_. 

****

Clementine answered the knock on the door and found her hunting partner standing on the porch. Beatrice gave her a wan smile and nodded her head in greeting.

“The council just finished up,” she said. “Gabriel wanted to catch you up.”

Her chest tight, Clementine slipped her arms into her jacket and followed Beatrice down the porch steps. There was an impeding sense of dread welling up in her throat. She was about to open her mouth to speak, but it occurred to her she had no notion of what she would say. Beatrice’s offer to lend an ear mere hours ago seemed so very distant. Clementine thought it prudent to keep her troubles to herself. She didn’t distrust Beatrice specifically, but as the minutes passed by, she felt herself becoming more like the version of herself that she hoped she had moved away from for good. 

When the New Frontier had taken A.J. from her, she had spent a dark, reproachful year seething at herself. She considered herself to blame for A.J.’s certain death, positive that her decisions had put him in harm’s way to begin with. She had depended on people, and that had compromised their safety. Clementine had resolved never again to rely on anyone other than herself; she had been twelve years old. 

So much had happened in the years following. She had met Javiar and his family, had reunited with A.J., found Ericson’s… and yet, she was slipping into a familiar apathy. She was spiraling down into a solitary place, taking strength in her inexorable focus even as she was losing sight of who she was. Her only hope left was for the two people she loved. 

The walk was brief, and Clementine followed Beatrice through a doorway into the warmth of a living room. She identified several people talking in low voices to one another – the doctor, the woman, Michonne. A man she didn’t know strode towards her. Dressed all in black, his priest’s collar was luminous against the dark material. His smile was tentative but sincere. Clementine noted his opaque right eye and wondered idly how much of his vision was compromised. 

“Clementine. I’m father Gabriel. I’m sorry we’re only now becoming acquainted. Please, if you’ll come with me,” he said, leading her down a hallway into what turned out to be an office. He settled into an armchair behind the narrow desk and gestured for her to sit in the only remaining chair. She sat down only out of civility; inside, her impatience was nagging at her attention.

“The council will be sending a group out to the Delta. Our scouts located their main compound – they’re set up in the Harrisburg airport.” Clementine wracked her memory but had never heard of that city. “Pennsylvania,” Gabriel clarified. “It’s a long way. We assume they have an outpost fairly close by, and we also assume that’s where they took Carol, Dianne and Violet. At least, for now.” Gabriel sighed. Clementine’s thoughts were racing, and she had to restrain herself from leaving the office, finding a map, and taking off right then and there. 

“Rosita told me you want to be a part of that group,” he began, “but I don’t know if that’s the best idea- “

“I’m going,” she said. Her steady voice belied the rapid pace of her heart “With, or without, the group.” She held his eyes while he considered her words. Looked her over. He pursed his lips and nodded once, and she thought she could detect a smile in his eyes. 

“Then, it’ll be with the group. They leave tomorrow morning,” he said, standing up. “Get some rest tonight.”

****

After dinner that evening, and despite the cold, Clementine sat out on their porch. She folded her arms around herself tightly and drew her knees up. The night was clear. Pinpricks of white dotted the dark sky, the moon a mere sliver against the faint backdrop of the milky way. Whenever she observed the night sky, her mind would spin, contemplating how vast the universe was. She took comfort in the distraction; in the way her mind could pause and attempt to confront the insurmountable abstraction of space. 

Shouts broke her away from her reverie, and she perked up with curiosity. A couple of people ran by the porch, armed. She frowned and stood, craning her neck towards to the disturbance. Several people were gathered by Gabriel’s house, and she strode down the porch steps towards them. As she approached, Gabriel’s steady voice held her attention.

“… help us defend the front gates. Scott, you gather a group and head to the back gate. We don’t know how big the herd is, so please, alert everyone you can and head to the walls.” Clementine lingered just outside the knot of people, observing Gabriel’s tense posture. 

As people dispersed towards their tasks, Rosita joined Gabriel, Michonne and another man. The man’s hair hung in strings just below his chin, and he had a crossbow slung across his back. Clementine followed her instincts and tucked herself against the side of the house, out of sight. There already seemed to be a dispute.

“We need everyone here to defend Alexandria,” she heard Michonne hiss. A gruff voice responded; Clementine presumed it belonged to the unknown man.

“I ain’t waitin’.”

“Daryl,” Gabriel pleaded, “we’ll send the group out after we’ve dealt with this. Something happened to our trackers - that’s the only way the herd could have gotten this close without redirect. It’s the Whisperers. We need all the able bodies we have -”

“I’m goin’,” Daryl growled, cutting him off. There was a burst of objections, and Clementine watched the man stalk off in the opposite direction. Her thoughts raced. She gave it a second before darting after him. He was already almost out of sight down the lane, and she broke into a dash.

“Daryl!” she called. He jerked to a stop and angled his head slightly. She huffed to a stop in front of him. “I have to go with you,” she said. His eyes were appraising as he glanced at her.

“You was listenin’?” 

She nodded. All around them, the town seemed to wake up to the impending threat. People scrambled to the walls with weapons, assembling quickly and quietly. Her gut twisted with doubt as he continued to regard her. 

“I ain’t no babysitter,” he finally replied, and he turned his shoulder and picked up his stride. Indignance hardened her resolve, and she rushed after him.

“I’m going no matter what,” she called out to him. “Figured we could have each other’s backs out there.” He cocked his head, but didn’t slow his stride. She stopped following him and huffed an impatient sigh, realizing that it was a lost cause. She spun on her heel and was about to head back to the house when she heard his voice.

“Get yer gear an’ meet me by the windmill in fifteen.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Beatrice as having a sense of humor was directly inspired by following Briana Venskus on Instagram. If you don't already, I highly recommend it as an entertaining diversion from the trials of 2020.


	11. Wolf Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm going to try to keep the action moving by alternating between the three main characters with each chapter. Let me know if it is disorienting, otherwise I may stick with this method for the rest of the story. 
> 
> Again, it makes me so happy to share this! Thanks for reading.

**CAROL**

Wire looped around Carol’s wrists, cutting off her circulation and digging into her skin. The thin metal had breached the delicate membrane covering vein and tendon when they had forced her into the cart. The jolt and sway of the cage exacerbated the wounds, sending sharp jabs of pain coursing through her arms. Despite this, Carol’s eyes were keen and her assessment of their situation evolving with every minute that passed.

Light shifted through the many grates and boards that composed their enclosure. Moments before they had loaded her up, Carol had seen horse-drawn wagons and identified six different captors. Every one of them carried an assault rifle, and she made a note to determine if their ammunition was as stocked as their hardware seemed to suggest.

The rattle of their cage obscured all conversation, so eavesdropping was out of the question. That did, however, give her the opportunity to hash things out with her fellow captives.

Dianne was pulling in heavy breaths, the pain in her wrists no doubt a mere tickle compared with her bullet wound. Despite the cold, perspiration dripped down her forehead as she attempted to breathe through it.

Violet was still unconscious. Carol would have preferred to have prevented any fresh injuries amongst them, but she couldn’t let the opportunity slip by. It always unsettled her that, after all these years, she could just slot right back into the meek, deferential woman that she had been before the turn. She suspected that part of her was always there, a shadow of vulnerability and fear that dogged her every move.

A low groan pulled her from her thoughts. Violet winced and blinked awake. She shouldered herself into a sitting position, jaw tightening as she took in their surroundings. Carol saw her grimace as her own restraints bit into tender skin.

“Fuck,” she spat, making eye contact with Carol. A large welt had already appeared on her face, reminding Carol of when they first met. Violet’s eyes shifted aside, and she let her head thunk against the wood behind her, sighing with resignation.

“Good, you’re awake,” Carol began.

Violet snorted. “A lotta good that does,” she countered with heat.

Dianne caught Carol’s eye. “I left signs in the dirt,” she said.

Carol nodded. “I did, too. Should be enough to get the others on the right track,” she stated.

Carol turned her attention back to Violet, who was now staring morosely into a corner. “We need to keep our heads on straight. The others will come looking, but in the mean-time I need you to follow my lead.” Violet shut her eyes. “We’ll find our moment,” Carol assured.

Violet’s eyebrows furrowed at that, and she found Carol’s eyes again. The edge to her had burned out, but left lingering distress on her features.

“How?” she said. “Dianne’s shot and you’re…” Violet struggled for words, heat rising in her cheeks. Carol cocked her head. Violet shook her head and averted her eyes. “Nothin’,” she mumbled.

Carol smiled, recognizing what was on the young girl’s mind.

“Think about it,” she began, “You’ve got a cart loaded up with captives. A teenager, an injured woman, and a meek, frightened old woman. Would you keep your guard up?”

Violet’s eyes widened as she worked out what Carol was suggesting, and she visibly let out a long breath.

“Shit,” she chuckled, “you really had me going.” Carol threw her a wry smile, before turning her attention back to their pen.

“So, Delta?” Carol inquired.

Violet pursed her lips. “Pretty sure. They used carts when they took Tenn and A.J,” she answered. Dianne tilted her arms up, wincing as she peered at her watch.

“We’ve only just started moving. I’m guessing we’re about half a mile away, give or take,” Dianne ventured. Carol nodded at the information. It would be helpful for them to have some notion of how far they were taken. She noticed Violet peering around intently, ignoring the pain in her wrists as she shuffled around the enclosure.

“Any chance of us getting this open?” Violet queried, staring at the grate at the far end of the cage. Carol shook her head.

“It’s locked,” she answered. Violet frowned. “We just have to sit tight,” Carol added.

A large dip in the road made the cage careen to the side, which sent them all sprawling. Dianne sucked in a harsh gasp, having broken her fall on her injured shoulder. Violet was the first to right herself, and she shuffled close to Dianne and assisted her in sitting up. She peered at her shoulder, then studied her back.

“There’s an exit wound,” she said to the older woman. Dianne shut her eyes and breathed deeply, sweat trickling on her brow. Violet settled next to her; Carol supposed she wanted to keep close in case they hit any more bumps in the road.

As there was nothing to do at the moment, Carol leaned back. The conflict with the Whisperers, and now with the Delta, is what she was afraid of returning to. She was in a position where she had to act to save those she cared about. Her stomach churned, and she questioned her motivation to leave the isolation of the boat and settle back into the community. Had she followed her instincts and remained detached, this would have all be avoidable.

She glanced at Violet, who was staring down at her hands, chewing on her lip. Carol found that she had grown fond of her in the past weeks. Violet didn’t talk much, but there was a quiet strength in her that Carol suspected came from growing up too fast – probably even before the turn. There was something familiar in her that eluded Carol’s perception.

She drew a heavy breath. Instead of brooding, she strove to concentrate on the rock and sway of the carriage. If she tried hard enough, she could almost pretend that she was back on _The Turandot_.

Shouting pulled her away of her thoughts, and she sought the source. The wagon rumbled to a stop, and she heard the snorting of the horses. Violet too was on her knees, peering through the gaps between boards. One man barked instructions and was quickly drowned out by heavy gunfire.

“Walkers…” Dianne mumbled. Carol nodded in agreement, hoping they hadn’t come across a herd. She knew they would be the first to be left behind. The gunfire abruptly halted.

“Shit,” one woman muttered close by. Carol thought she might have been commanding the reins of their carriage, judging from her proximity. A few minutes ticked by, the horses’ nervous snorts the only noise breaking the silence.

“Hey. Pritchard, you see that?” another man hissed. A moment passed.

“Fucking hell…”

“… it’s those freaks.”

“Look,” a man raised his voice, “we’re just passing through. We’re not looking for any trouble,” he said. Carol thought it sounded like the man who had addressed them back in the woods. She made eye contact with Dianne, then Violet. Both women had their features pulled tight in concentration.

Carol heard muttering from their captors, a tense energy swirling around the group. Sworn complaints reached her ears. After a few more moments, their leader started shouting orders. The carriage jolted to a start, and they were off again, evidently avoiding confrontation with whom Carol could only presume to be Whisperers.

“Try to get some rest if you can,” she addressed Dianne and Violet. The other two settled back and shut their eyes to steal fitful snatches of sleep.

****

Carol was shaken awake, the vestiges of a nightmare dancing behind her eyelids. She must be more worn out than she thought. Violet knelt in front of her, hands on her shoulder, urgency shining in her eyes. The cart had stopped again, and night had fallen. Muttered curses and footfalls crunching on gravel and branches swirled around them. Gunfire rang out, shouted directives.

“You think it’s the Whisperers?” Dianne shouted above the clamor.

Carol nodded, attempting to follow the action with her ears alone. Violet had taken to peering around the cart again, openly agitated.

Even as Carol was about to suggest preparing for an opportunity, one presented itself. There was a braying and whinny of horses, and then Carol was spinning. Her shoulders and back tumbled against the ceiling of their cart, sharp bursts of pain disorienting her as she landed hard on her hip. When the world stopped spinning, Carol gingerly moved her body. She was achy and sore, but nothing seemed to be broken.

She was tangled with Violet, and the younger girl was raising herself up and wincing, blinking through her confusion. Blood trickled from her wrists, but she looked okay otherwise.

Dianne was in rougher shape, the wound in her shoulder had reasserted itself after their tumble. She was grimacing and panting.

“The cart,” Violet hissed, scrambling to her knees.

The roll had splintered a couple of the wood planks, and Violet dropped to her back and started striking her boots against them. Carol helped Dianne up into a sitting position, the latter woman nodding her thanks. The shouts were further away now, the gunfire more infrequent. They didn’t have much time.

Violet grunted with every blow she landed against the wood, and Carol could see it giving. She crawled to Violet’s side, offering assistance with her own boots. A few more moments toil rewarded them with a slab of wood breaking away. Carol couldn’t see the scuffle, but it sounded as if it were still a way off.

One more powerful kick from Violet sent another board careening into the darkness. They both shuffled onto their knees and pushed on the split boards, hoping to make the opening larger. A snap indicated that Violet succeeded. She crouched next to Dianne.

“C’mon. We have to move.” She assisted Dianne to the opening, which unfortunately required her to manipulate her broad frame through one shoulder at a time, irritating the already raw wound. Violet was next, her wiry body on the other side in no time. Carol was the last to leave.

It appeared that the horses got spooked. The remains of the carriage were splinted, one large wheel broken. Bits of debris and various supplies littered the ground towards the commotion. The forest was alive with noise – shouts of panic muffled by the hiss of walkers, peppered with the sporadic crack of gunfire. Violet crouched down amongst the wreckage, and when she straightened, Carol saw a wicked blade clasped in her hands. She nodded to her, and then gestured into the woods, opposite the altercation.

A need to keep their footing hampered their pace. Sounds of the skirmish grew distant, but the surrounding woods vibrated with energy, as if walkers were lurking behind every tree. Carol knew they needed to get as far away as possible to elude recapture, and to avoid the Whisperers. They were in no condition to fight with their hands tied with wire, even with Violet’s knife.

That was when she heard the approach – the sounds of several bodies tramping through the woods, heading directly for them. From the lack of guttural hissing, she determined it was the remainders of Delta – she wouldn’t have heard the Whisperers.

“Run,” she hissed, following her own advice. They didn’t get far before Violet stumbled and hit the ground, knife flying away, her expletives edged with panic. Carol stopped short, Dianne a little way ahead of her. Their pursuers were right on top of them now. Carol gestured for Dianne to keep going.

“We’ll catch up,” she said. Dianne turned and ran, leaving Carol to crouch down next to Violet and help her to her feet. They turned to follow, and that’s when two men broke into their path, guns raised. Carol stood stock still, hoping Violet let her lead.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” their captor growled. Carol screwed her features up in fright and increased the pace of her breathing.

“Please! Don’t shoot us! We were just scared. We… we didn’t want-“

“Shut up,” he cut her off. She flinched and ducked her head down, feeling him step into her personal space. Pritchard, she’d heard someone call him. She whimpered and cowered, while also evaluating their situation. There were only two men for now, so she assumed the other four were still fighting or dead. She hoped that Dianne kept moving and knew that her chances for escape increased the longer they stalled potential pursuit.

“The other bitch ran off,” the other man huffed. “Want me to go after her?”

The rumble of Pritchard’s voice was very close, and Carol had to stop herself from blowing her cover by delivering a swift headbutt to his sternum.

“Leave her. She won’t last long – trussed up and leaking.” And then his voice was dripping with saccharin sweetness. “Isn’t that right, darlin’?” He tilted her head up with a dirty finger, and she lowered her eyes deferentially. “Maybe we’ll just leave you out here, too?” he cooed. “Tie you to a tree and walk away?”

Carol choked down a sob even as a familiar coolness crept into her heart. She had been dreading the eventual confrontation when she would have to kill them all. She had worked so hard to put as much distance between that version of herself and who she was trying to be now. What she hadn’t considered, however, was the stir of hatred that bubbled up in her gut. She was afraid she might actually enjoy killing them, and that thought – born from instinctual revulsion – weighed her heart down with fear.

Her ears perked up when she heard Violet, another kind of fear shivering through her body.

“Get your fucking hands off me!”

And while Carol forced herself not to look, she heard flesh being struck followed by a grunt and a body hitting the ground.

“Don’t you _ever_ tell me what to do, bitch,” the man threatened.

“Hicks!” Pritchard barked a warning. “We don’t have time for bullshit. Get her up and let’s go.”

Carol forced herself to meet his eyes again. He had a good five inches on her, so she had to angle her head up to do so. She let her lip quiver.

“Th-thank you,” she said meekly.

He huffed an amused breath and grabbed her by the arm, hard. He bent down, so they were eye to eye; she could see each individual bristle of hair in his scruff, and he stank of blood and dirt and decaying teeth.

“I didn’t do it for you, sweetheart,” he crooned, smirking as she shook in his arms. He straightened and spun her around, giving her a little shove along the trail. She walked next to Violet, head bowed while she affected an unsteady gait. When she stole a glance at the younger girl, she saw that her lip was split and swollen, smearing blood all down her chin.

Carol listened for the sounds of battle, but they were too far away or the Whisperers had won. She would never have hoped for a confrontation with them, but the opportunity for Dianne to seek help was a blessing. That there were now fewer of the Delta to deal with was something she could take comfort in. This would all be over soon.


	12. As the Hours Pass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from 'After Dark' by Mr. Kitty.

**CLEMENTINE**

Clementine had just enough time to write a hasty note for Aasim and gather her gear before meeting Daryl. On her way, she dropped by the armory and signed out a revolver, preferring to keep her options open.

Part of her expected him to just blow her off. In fact, she was already regretting her decision to reach out to him. She appreciated that he and Carol were close and that he had prodigious tracking skills, but something about him rankled her. Maybe she just hated the insinuation that she expected him to take care of her. She definitely could use help tracking, but would make do on her own if she must. Now that they knew where Delta was, where A.J. could be, she would not squander her time. She would find Violet, and together they would find A.J.

Daryl’s pacing form underneath the windmill was ultimately a surprise. His dog was a welcome addition, as it was becoming evident that she would have better luck striking up a conversation with the canine than with his human.

Guilt tangled in her chest as she wondered about Rosie. She had lost track of the American bully during the assault from Delta. They had wasted no time in searching for A.J. and Tennessee, and it wasn’t until she woke up in Alexandria that she had thought about the poor dog.

After running through the plan with as much brevity as humanly possible, Daryl didn’t say another word as he led them through an intricate network of subterranean tunnels. Beatrice had told her about the existence of the tunnel system. She had even pointed out a couple of places it funneled out to outside the walls, but there were a dizzying amount of twists and turns. She grudgingly conceded to herself that she would have been lost without Daryl escorting her.

Gunfire from above ground vibrated through the chambers, warped and diffuse. Clementine scanned the shifting shadows around them. Their only illumination was a wind-up flashlight that Daryl brought. Dog kept up a decent trot ahead of them, stopping occasionally to let the two bipeds catch up.

After a seemingly limitless number of turns, Daryl stopped them. Clementine craned her neck up the ladder as Daryl clasped the flashlight in his teeth and started climbing.

“Gonna hafta fight our way out,” he declared. Then he lifted the cover up and over, the soft light of the moon backlighting his rugged frame as he clambered down.

The business of hauling Dog up the ladder would have been comical if Clementine wasn’t acutely troubled by the weight of every passing minute. Time was her enemy now, and unlike physical foes, she couldn’t wield her strength or cunning to stop it. All she could do was believe that she would find Violet, alive and unharmed.

Though the rock in her gut suggested otherwise. The probability that Violet was suffering at the hands of some sadistic raider coiled despair deep in her chest. She didn’t want to see the gruesome visuals that flashed through her imagination. Dog’s bark brought her attention to the present, and she made swift work of the climb and emerged out into the cold.

Clementine sprang into action the second she reached the top, unsheathing her knife as she kept pace with Daryl. They could just see Alexandria’s walls, and though they had traveled underneath the bulk of the herd, there were walkers scattered all around them starting to take notice. Daryl had a blade in each palm, and while he began hacking their way forward, Clementine took it upon herself to keep their flanks clear.

Two walkers tumbled their way to Daryl from behind, and she kicked the knees out of one while driving her bowie knife through the jaw of the other. She drew her knife from the falling walker and forced it straight into the temple of the one on the ground. Daryl met her eyes, and gave her a brusque nod, before whirling and leading the way again.

Dog was ahead of them, his jaws firmly surrounding the head of a walker. The sickening crunch of its skull collapsing could be heard even among the wheezing and groaning surrounding them. Clementine scanned all around and they kept moving, pausing to take out any walkers that got too close. Luckily, the majority were being drawn towards the gunfire in Alexandria, so they could snake their path through the woods with minimal conflict.

She estimated that they traveled a couple of miles before Daryl stopped them. They came across a paved road, black top cracked and pockmarked. He pulled out a map and consulted it by the glow of his flashlight.

“We close to the range?” she asked.

“Nah,” he said. After a few more moments, he folded the map and clicked off the light. “We were pushed further out gettin’ ‘round the herd.” And with that, he crossed the road and led them deeper in the woods.

They walked through the night. The cold had truly settled in, and she regretted leaving behind clothing that would have cut the chill. Their steady pace kept her blood circulating, but she wasn’t looking forward to the moment they’d have to stop and rest.

For now, she kept her senses concentrated on their surroundings. She took the relative lull in activity to study her stoic companion. Daryl was a careful tracker, something she wouldn’t have predicted from his general bluster back in Alexandria, but which she was grateful for. It made up for the downright sullen company he kept.

They reached a clearing and, though it was difficult to identify, she thought she spotted a wrecked car in the middle of it. Daryl strode forward, Dog at his heels dutifully. As they approached, Clementine noticed the bodies laid out along the way; walkers with their skulls shattered by bullets. The range.

Daryl stopped by the vehicle – an old blasted out SUV. Dog circled the wreck, sniffing and whining. Clementine kept her eyes up, even though the night was quiet except for Dog’s snuffling.

Daryl straightened and gestured with a nod. “C’mon.”

They rushed across the field, Clementine minding her feet as she strode over bodies. They pushed on into the woods and walked on, Daryl keeping his eyes trained to the ground. Dog whined up ahead and emitted a rough growl in the back of his throat. Clementine jogged to him and saw a walker tumbling toward the German shepherd. She drove her blade into the eye socket of the walker, stopping it instantly. A whistle perked Dog’s ears up and he trotted back to Daryl, Clementine trailing behind.

She came into a narrow clearing and saw Daryl crouched close to the ground. He glanced up at her and stood.

“They were here,” he announced. “Some kinda throw down. Trail heads that way,” he said, pointing. He eyed her up and down. “We should rest a few.” She bristled at his suggestion.

“I’m fine to go on,” she said curtly, pushing past him in the direction he had indicated. She scanned the ground and had a difficult time seeing anything like a trail. Maybe there were a bit more scuffs in the earth, but it all looked the same to her. Grudgingly, she stopped and turned back.

Daryl observed her coolly, his body practically vibrating with energy. His fingers wouldn’t stop picking at his cuticles, and his eyes reminded Clementine’s of a scavenger’s; sharp and keen. Clementine found herself getting frustrated.

“What’s your problem?” she asked, propping one hand on her hip. He eyed her a little longer, shifting his weight. Dog trotted off, oblivious or pointedly ignoring the escalating temperature between the two.

“Best to get a good look at what we’re dealin’ with. Better with light,” he said finally. “Ain’t gonna get far on fumes,” he added.

She huffed at the implication that she was at her physical end, the sound petulant even to her ears. There was prudence to having more light to work with, and dawn was only a couple hours away. Even a fifteen minute rest would provide them a little illumination.

She sat down and leaned back against a tree, poking in her backpack for some jerky. She thought wistfully of a fire, even though they didn’t have the time for such comforts.

While chewing on the jerky, she surreptitiously watched Daryl out of the corner of her eye. Thought back to what Carol had said, about how they had met at the beginning. She softened as she recognized that they had more in common than she preferred to believe. She resolved not let him get under her skin anymore. It didn’t matter what they thought of each other; they just needed to find their people. They could support each other with that.

After pacing around their perimeter twice, he dropped on a felled tree and pawed through his bag. The sky was brightening a little, and she was sure that by the time they found Delta, there would be enough light to make a safe assessment. She gave him a few moments to wolf down his food before she stood up, dusting off her pants.

He eyed her briefly before hoisting his pack over his shoulders and standing. They followed the trail, Dog nowhere to be seen, which didn’t seem to concern Daryl. He picked his way along, scanning the ground and the surrounding foliage as they walked; a blood hound on the trail.

Clementine’s senses were on overdrive; every twig snap, every crunch and creak of leaves and tree had her evaluating potential threats around them. The crack of gunfire in the distance must still be pulling walkers in Alexandria’s direction. It reminded her of the siege at Richmond when the walls had fallen…

But she wouldn’t think about that. She could only focus on the moment; on the cold air rushing into her lungs, on steadying her heart with every stride forward. Clementine shut herself off from brooding about what could be happening or what would happen; she closed herself off from feeling anything other than determination.

Daryl stopped short and raised a fist, cocking his head to the side. His crossbow was drawn and sighted in the blink of an eye, and Clementine held her gun steady with both hands. There was the rustle of branches, but no telltale moaning of a walker.

“C’mon out!” Daryl shouted, his voice like gravel. Clementine eyed their surroundings, on the lookout for an ambush. A figured ghosted in the dark, approaching them.

“Daryl?” a tentative voice asked. The woman that broke cover had her wrists bound in front of her; her broad figure stained with dirt and grime, face strained but eyes sharp. Clementine recognized her from Alexandria. They had never met, but she frequently caught her attention with her archery skills on the wall. Dianne.

Daryl slung his crossbow to his back and was at her side in an instant. She was weary, but kept her footing as he helped her sit against a nearby tree. There was a wound on her shoulder that worried Clementine, and clearly Daryl was on the same page.

“You bit?” he asked, quietly. Dianne shook her head.

“Shot,” she said, and winced as he went to work on unwrapping the wire around her wrists. Clementine crouched near and pulled her canteen and some jerky out of her pack. Hands free, Dianne gratefully took a long pull from the canteen. Her wrists were badly cut, shallow tunnels carved by restraints.

Clementine had told Aasim and Violet about stitching up her own arm; what she hadn’t mentioned was having to sneak into a cabin filled with aggressive people in search of supplies with which to do so. Fishing twine. A clean rag. Antiseptic. A needle. Ever since, she carried some essential dressing items with her whenever available. She dug through her bag and removed bandages and antiseptic.

“Carol - she okay?” Daryl asked with some trepidation. Dianne recounted their struggle while Clementine cleaned her wrists and bandaged them. Told them of their capture, the suspected confrontation with Whisperers, their escape. Clementine’s heart was pounding, but she concentrated on the task at hand, easing Dianne’s armor and shirt off so she could look at her shoulder.

“The Delta caught up with them – I’m pretty sure only a few of them survived the attack,” Dianne finished. Daryl was subdued as he took in this information, his body coiled and fingers twitching. Clementine’s heart was jumping, elation coursing through her veins. They were alive, at least they had been.

The bullet wound was small but very inflamed. She cleaned around it as best she could, but Dianne would likely need antibiotics. She wrapped it up to keep it as clean as possible and helped Dianne into her shirt and armor.

“Thanks,” the older woman said. Clementine nodded.

Dianne turned to Daryl. “You find their base?” she asked. Daryl nodded, chewing on his lip.

“Yup. They’re holed up in an airport up north.”

Dianne stood, grimacing a little as she got to her feet.

“It’s just the two of you?” she asked. Clementine recounted the events that brought them there, beginning with Aasim and Eugene witnessing the capture to the herd surrounding Alexandria. At some point, Dog rejoined them – she felt his wet snout brush up against her hand.

“I’m pretty sure they have an outpost close by,” Dianne said. Daryl grunted.

“We’ll find it,” he said.

“I’ll take you two to the wreck,” Dianne said. When Daryl began to argue, she continued. “From what you told me, it’ll be damn near impossible to get back into Alexandria. Hilltop isn’t far, and I can radio Gabriel when I get there.” Daryl nodded once.

“A’right,” he said. He handed her one of his knives and they started walking.

Daryl took the rear with Dog at his heals; Clementine fell into stride with Dianne. The sky was brightening, and Clementine found herself in a haze of exhaustion. Physically, her body was actually running on fumes. The preceding two nights’ sleep had been fitful and she quite literally just walked through the night. Still, she knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until she found Violet.

“Is anyone else hurt?” Clementine asked quietly.

Dianne’s expression softened. “Violet’s got some brass,” she said with affection, “and the guy in charge didn’t like that. He… knocked her out before loading us in the cart.” Clementine’s expression must have displayed her apprehension, because Dianne followed up hastily. “She’s okay, though. When she woke up, she was sharp. Didn’t seem like she was concussed.”

Clementine ducked her head and took a deep breath. She nodded to Dianne as silence settled between them. Dog trotted ahead of them, whining. He gave a succession of sharp barks and then he dashed off. Daryl brushed by them with his crossbow drawn, and Dianne and Clementine readied their weapons and followed.

As they broke out into a small clearing, bodies littered the ground and several walkers swung towards them. Clementine didn’t have a chance to count as she started hewing away at them, bowie knife and arm dripping with their viscous blood. She came upon a particularly fresh one – likely one of the delta soldiers. Its skull sent her knife glancing off, slicing to the bone but not penetrating to the brain.

Clementine stumbled back and crouched low as the walker picked up its pace and groaned. When it was close enough, she kicked out its knee, and it toppled to the ground. She slid her knife through its eye socket, cringing as pus squirted out of the murky organ.

She whirled on her heals and sought her next target. Clementine spotted a walker angling towards her, arms outstretched, and was taking her first step towards it when she felt something grasp her boot, almost sending her sprawling. A walker held on tight, hissing and gurgling. It was missing its entire lower body, spinal column and organs trailing behind it. She lifted her leg and brought the heel of her boot down against its head as hard as she could. The rotten skull caved in under her boot, which plunged into inches of putrefied organ matter.

She barely had time to swing around when the walker she had originally targeted grasped at her chest with surprisingly strong fingers. Clementine steadied herself and strove to keep the walker at arm’s length. Its teeth snapped together as it mindlessly sought her flesh. Just as quickly as the attack began, the walker went slack in her arms, crumpling down at her feet. She recognized one of Daryl’s arrows lodged in the back of its skull and hastened on to the next walker. She would thank him later.

Clementine dispatched two more walkers and found a minute to breathe. There were only a few stragglers left, and even as she watched, those were felled with arrow and blade. She allowed herself a moment to catch her breath, adrenaline heightening all her senses as she listening for any further signs of danger. It appeared as if they were in the clear.

She was covered in gore. Her right hand and arm were the worst, but her jacket and pants displayed bits of splattered flesh and blood. The rank smell churned her stomach.

They converged, Clementine stopping quickly to pull the arrow out of the walker’s head. Both Dianne and Daryl were dotted with bits of decaying flesh. She met Daryl’s eyes and handed him his arrow.

“Thanks for that,” she said.

He was chewing on his lip and examining her. There was an intensity about his gaze she found slightly unnerving. But then he ducked his head in acknowledgement and the tension was broken.

“This is it,” Dianne said, hands on her hips. She pointed at what appeared to be debris further along the lane. “There’s our wagon. I count three delta soldiers, which means you've got another three with Carol and Violet.”

“There’s a forth soldier over there,” Clementine said, gesturing to the general vicinity of strewn bodies she had felled.

Dianne nodded. “That’s better,” she said.

Daryl grunted in agreement, already circling the area. Clementine and Dianne headed towards the wreckage. The sight of the cart made Clementine’s stomach drop. A.J.’s face, wide eyed and agitated, peered back at her through the grate…

“Here,” Dianne said, holding out a hatchet; Violet’s hatchet. “She’ll be happy to see this again,” she said with a kind smile. Clementine strapped it to her backpack and set about scouring the area for more supplies. Dianne straightened up with a bow in her hands, a pleased smile on her face. Daryl stalked over to the wreckage.

“Found a trail,” he said. Dog bounded over to them, barking excitedly. Daryl pulled jerky and water from his pack, and Dog happily gnawed on the chewy meat. Rummaging around a while longer, they retrieved Dianne’s quiver and arrows, some provisions and water. Dianne packed a bag and slung her bow over her shoulders. Daryl gave her the once over and nodded.

“Take care of yourself,” he said. Dianne handed him back his knife and nodded.

“Good luck,” she said. Dianne gave Clementine a brief smile and headed off the trail further into the woods. Daryl looked Clementine over. She squinted and readied herself for another snipe at her capabilities, so the softness in his tone surprised her.

“Ya ready?” he asked, actual concern flashing in his eyes. Slightly taken aback, she simply nodded. He grunted in acknowledgement and turned on his heel.

“Dog!” he shouted. Bushes rustled and twigs snapped as Dog bolted onto the trail to Daryl’s side. Clementine kept pace, observing the morning sunlight dapple across the ratty vest he wore, one tattered wing peeling off and reminding her of her lost baseball cap. It wouldn’t be long now before they found Delta, and she could only hope that they weren’t too late.


	13. Everything I Pretend Not to Feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick warning to let you all know that this is a violent chapter - torture and self-harm in equal measure.

**VIOLET**

The air was musty, making Violet’s eyes itch. Slashes of sunlight streamed through gaps in the boarded-up windows, and she strained her ears in efforts to determine how many Delta soldiers were stationed at the outpost.

They were holed up in a former elementary school. The shattered glass and debris littering the hallways gave Violet a spasm of nostalgia for Ericson’s. If she had it all over to do again, she would have done more to make the space livable. Spending time in Alexandria filled her with a sense of agency; like she was part of something bigger, where everybody had a job to do in order to keep things in order.

All of that was moot, however, as Ericson’s was lost and she found herself again at the mercy of Delta. Her wrists were burning, even the slightest shift of her body shot stings of pain through her arms. Her weeping lips added to her discomfort.

They had separated her from Carol, and as the minutes ticked by, the coil of uneasiness in her chest expanded. She sought any detail that could help her, either now or at an unknowable opportunity.

Tiny desks with chairs attached were shifted against either side of the room, leaving the center clear. Hicks had unceremoniously dropped her on the peeling linoleum floor and had left on the heels of a growled warning. They had surprised her by leaving her legs unbound, but after a cursory walk around, she found the windows barred and door locked tight. Muttering expletives under her breath, she perched on a desk and dropped her head between her legs.

Part of her strove for composure, certain that she – and Carol – would find their moment or be able to hold out long enough for help to arrive. The rest of her was all manic agitation spiked with grief. Being stationary, at another outpost, triggered all of her shame and mourning resulting from their foolish approach to the police station. At the very least, she would take consolation in the fact that Clementine and Aasim were safe.

Clementine. The softness of her skin and the steadfastness of her resolve both held equal amounts of reverence from Violet. A brief spasm of regret clutched at her heart when she realized that the last time she saw Clementine, she had been wracked with grief from a nightmare.

The air was stifling, and she pulled long breaths into her lungs. The sound of voices perked her ears, and she hauled herself to her feet and stared down the door. She thought she could decipher two or three distinct voices within the approaching discussion.

The door blasted open and slammed against the wall, and they were hauling Carol into the room. She was flung down onto the ground; Violet caught sight of her split lip. Just as she was processing the intrusion, something clipped the side of her head, sending her sprawling onto her side. The wire bit into her wrists and her ear rung as she blinked through the pain, trying to get a look at her assailant. A familiar chuckle made an involuntary shiver course through her body.

“Well, well, well,” the voice drawled. She forced herself to lift her head, and her blood went cold at the sight of Carter, crouched down and much too close for her liking. “If it ain’t blondie,” he declared. 

There was scruff on his face now, a little more wear and tear on his fatigues, but she recognized that sadistic dullness in his eyes. He was grinning, and he was so close she could see the fuzzy plaque lining his gums. “Guess I won’t be goin’ home empty-handed after-all,” he cooed. Standing, he turned to Pritchard, practically glowing. “Good work, soldier,” he said, and Pritchard gave him a crisp salute.

Their exchange would have made Violet snicker with derision if she wasn’t keenly aware of how grave their situation was. 

She shouldered herself into a sitting position and saw that Carol was watching her, affecting that same sniveling demeanor she had before. Hicks was ostensibly guarding her, but seemed to have already deemed it an unnecessary task.

“So,” Carter began, drawing Violet’s attention to him again. He clasped his hands behind his back and sauntered around the room, his wiry form towering over her, “we have ourselves a pickle here, blondie. See, your friend over her,” he thumbed in Carol’s direction, “is pretty tight-lipped about the community you’re from. Seems like she’s just too scared to say a peep.” He squatted down low, this time invading her personal space. Violet’s skin crawled, and she swallowed against her thumping heart.

“Now, I know you remember my little demonstration back at the police station,” he murmured, barely able to disguise the glee in his tone. “You know that Delta requires obedience from its soldiers. Why don’t you tell me everything about your group, starting with how many people you have, and I might just forget about your little escape act?” 

He ran a dirty finger along her lower lip, and she flinched away, unable to restrain the hiss that escaped her lips. Carter smiled and leaned backward. Violet eyed him suspiciously, and he clicked his tongue.

“Damn shame we had to leave your friends behind. The boys didn’t have much fight in ‘em, but the girl,” he whistled, “she had a fire in her I knew we could harness.” Violet’s heart was pounding against her ribs; her stomach knotted with fear as he leaned in, as if imparting a secret. “Not to mention what a _fine_ piece of ass she was.”

Violet couldn’t suppress the whine that snagged in her throat. Her lip curled back with contempt, while mild amusement glinted in his eyes.

“Looks like I hit a nerve,” Carter drawled. His face lit up as if with a sudden revelation, and he beamed at her. “Wait, I’m not tellin’ you anything you don’t already know, am I?” Her face burned, and he chuckled. She could barely draw a breath around her pent-up indignation and despair. “Gotta hand it to you for scoring that piece. And here I was thinkin’ I was her first- “

She didn’t think; she couldn’t beyond her blind hatred of the man. Something welled up inside of her and her forehead cracked against his face before she knew what she was doing. She blinked against the blood that ran into her eyes and saw him on his knees, hand covering his face as blood flowed through his fingers.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he growled.

Pritchard was on her in an instant, his fist cuffing her ear with force. Violet slumped to her side, head throbbing, while Carol pleaded for mercy. 

Carter stared at the blood in his hands while chuckling to himself. His broken nose streamed blood while he struggled to laugh and breathe through his mouth. He hooted and got to his feet, Hicks and Pritchard eying each other while he collected himself.

“Hot damn, we got ourselves a live one, boys!” he announced. Violet’s chest was heaving, adrenaline cresting with her mounting fury. Heedless of the danger, he leaned down low, his face inches away from Violet’s. Blood dripped onto her as air bubbled and whistled through his shattered nose. “You think about what I said about obedience.”

He straightened up and led the two men out of the room, Carol in tow. The door clicked shut behind them. Violet slumped against the wall and wiped at the blood on her face awkwardly. The frantic butterfly of her heart and the spike of adrenaline made her dizzy, and she clutched at the sob that welled up in her throat. Violet shut her eyes and clenched her teeth, determined not to cry. She would not give him the gratification.

****

The afternoon waned into evening, shadows elongating before the blanket of dusk crept over everything. Violet’s head had only just stopped bleeding. The furrows on her wrists were wider from the constant movement of applying pressure and wiping away blood. She welcomed the pain; it was a distraction that enabled her to keep her tears at bay.

When her mind strayed to the words Carter said and her imagination filled in the blanks, she jerked her hands apart, tearing away at the flesh of her wrists and forcing her back to the present. She’d grit her teeth and breathe through the pain and use those moments of clarity to consider her limited options.

Footsteps approached. Violet staggered to her feet again as the lock clicked open and the door swung open. Carter walked in, followed by a woman dressed in familiar fatigues, shoving Carol into the room. The soldier shut the door while Carter studied Violet. He had washed off the blood, his ruined nose swollen and darkly bruised. A flicker of satisfaction almost made her smile.

“I hope you spent the time well, Violet.” He sing-songed each syllable of her name, gloating over this newly acquired piece of information. “It seems like you’ve forgotten the details of my lessons, so let me jog your memory.” 

He nodded to his companion, who sauntered up to Violet and began fiddling with the wire around her wrists. Carter lazily trained a pistol in Carol’s general direction, an unequivocal warning to Violet. The slip and slide of the metal bindings sliced deeper into her flesh, but Violet kept her expression impassive. Though her heart was fluttering as Carter held her eyes and smirked.

Once her hands were free, the woman pivoted quickly behind Violet, tugging her right arm up and back. An intense shock of pain burst from her shoulder as she was restrained. She grunted and tried to keep still. Carter grinned and turned to Carol.

“You’re gonna wanna watch this, honey,” he crooned. 

Violet’s legs were kicked out from under her and her face slammed into the floor. A knee pressed to the center of her back and held her down as her arm was pinned to the floor away from her body. Carter crouched down so he could hold her eyes, and he revealed a cleaver. Her cleaver.

“Found this when we caught ya the first time. Thought it would come in hand-y,” he drew out the word, and Violet felt her gut tighten, “And boy, do I love it when I’m right.” He stood up and chuckled as she swallowed down her dread.

He was going to take her hand. All of her inadequacies and insecurities howled through her consciousness, her stomach clenching with the inevitability of it all. She would be useless. Even if she lived through it, her ability to just survive in the world would drop dramatically.

Carol was pleading with him to show mercy. Violet just shut her eyes as the soldier pinning her down shifted her weight. She splayed Violet’s fingers wide and all she could do was simmer in her terror and try not to throw up. Agonizingly long seconds dragged on, Carol’s words becoming background noise as Violet sucked in breath after breath in efforts to quell her mounting fear.

She heard the scrape of blade on linoleum seconds before her body registered the pain. A howl of agony left her lungs as burning white hot pain spiked through her arm. The weight on top of her left, and she instinctively curled her knees to her chest, cradling her arm tight to her body. Violet gasped through the pulsing fire that was her hand, and despite it all desperately sought to keep the tears from her eyes.

Carol was crying and Carter was speaking and she barely heard any of it through the roar in her ears. She attempted to put pressure on the wound, but where she was expecting to feel a stump, she found that she still had her hand. Fleeting relief flashed through her even as she recognized that something was desperately wrong. She raised her trembling hand and saw that she was missing her pinky finger, and that’s when her hearing cleared enough for her to pick up on words.

“… wouldn’t be any good to us without a hand, would you? So, I’m giving you another chance,” Carter was saying, “because I’m just that kind of guy. How about you tell us what we need to know, or I have Stein here take another finger?” A gurgled whimper escaped her lips, and she shut her eyes again and tried to take deep breaths. A beat, maybe two passed, before she felt rough hands shoving her into the floor again, her arm being extracted from the protective curl of her body.

“Stop! Stop, please!” Carol’s cry had no effect on the steadfast force of Violet’s captor. Blood smeared the floor as her arm was again splayed out. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know! Please,” Carol sobbed. “Just stop.”

“Stein,” Carter warned. The soldier paused in her momentum but continued to hold her down. Violet couldn’t help it; tears slipped down her cheeks as agony burned through her body and paralyzing fear gripped her chest. “What’s that, darlin’? You ready to sing?” he asked.

“I… I’ll tell you everything. Just, please, stop,” Carol stuttered through her reply. Violet was released once again, her body automatically curling back into the fetal position. When she tried to focus on Carol, her gaze skimmed across her missing digit, curved up in a splatter of blood. She clenched her jaw and willed her mind away from the heavy throb in her hand.

“Well, now, isn’t that a relief? And here I was thinking I’d have to waste good soldier potential with Violet here.” He perched on one of the tiny desks. “Start talking.”

Violet couldn’t stay focused on the back and forth. The initial shock of pain in her hand built to a throbbing burn that mirrored her heartbeat. She choked on silent gasps, still attempting to wrangle her breathing into a pace resembling normal. Huffing a few deep breaths, she wrapped her hand up in her shirt and applied as much pressure as she could. Pain spiked through her arm and she grit her teeth and whined. She heard the soldier scoff.

“Suck it up, kid. It’s just a scratch,” she murmured, closer than Violet realized. She hauled herself into a sitting position and the room swayed dangerously around her. All she could do was hold back her expressions of pain and breathe.

She didn’t know how much time passed, but Carter snapped his fingers close to her face and when she opened her eyes, his toothy grin accosted her.

“Glad to know you’re still with me,” he said in a low voice, a mockery of seduction. It took everything in her to hold in the ‘fuck you’ that was about to tumble out of her mouth. He held her eyes for an uncomfortable amount of time, but she refused to look away, even as her entire body shuddered with revulsion. He snorted and stood up, turning his back on her. The door slammed shut and locked behind them, and Violet slumped back against the wall.

Carol was by her side in an instant.

“I need you to focus. Get this wire off, then I can help you with your hand,” she said, all business now that Carter and Stein left. Violet blinked at her and realized they hadn’t bound her wrists after hacking off her finger. She reached for Carol’s wire with her right hand while she kept her left hand aloft. Violet struggled while blood trickling down her wrist, and, with a start, she was right back with her father again. Hot blood gushing down her wrist, the hilt of the knife quivering in her grasp…

“ _Violet_ ,” Carol hissed, snapping her into reality. She focused and unraveled the little knot of metal, Carol’s blood making the job slippery. When she was free, Carol pulled a kerchief from her back pocket and wrapped it around Violet’s hand, applying firm pressure while Violet worked her jaw and tried her damnedest not to make a sound. Carol studied her face in the dim light.

“It’s okay to let it out,” she offered. Violet took a few deep breaths and shut her eyes. Shook her head slightly.

“What’re we gonna do?” Violet asked, her voice breaking. Carol took her time to respond, and when she did, her words made hope sing through Violet’s veins, buoying her ravaged heart.

“We’re going to kill them all.”


	14. Always Watching, Always Ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tough one for me to get through. Turns out it's really hard for me to write compelling (hopefully) action sequences! I hope I did the moment justice. Thanks for reading!

**CAROL**

Their plan was simple, as it was all about flexibility and opportunity. Carol’s hands were unbound, but they kept the wire draped around her wrists. The shiv she always carried in her boot was now cupped in her palm, and she impatiently flipped it over in her fingers. They had the element of surprise, and Carol knew how valuable that could be.

With her encouragement, Violet was trying to rest. They had staunched the bleeding from her missing finger, but she had her arm propped above her as a precaution.

Carol remembered when she had been shot. How the spikes of adrenaline and endorphins in her body had left her weakened and barely able to stay conscious. She imagined Violet was similarly fatigued now.

She knew that it could have been much worse, and her intention now was to prevent any further harm from befalling either of them. Violet’s descriptions of what Carter did to her friends crushed any reluctance she may have been having. The calm that accompanied her resolution gave her the strength to do what needed to be done.

“You’ve killed people before,” Violet’s throaty voice broke through her thoughts. It wasn’t a question. Though difficult to see in the dim light of early morning, Carol knew her gaze was on her. “How,” the girl worked through her thoughts. “How’s it feel?”

Violet’s tone was so small. With a start, Carol remembered Sophia; her daughter was always so timid when she would phrase questions about her father. As if speaking plainly or loudly would somehow conjure his presence and his wrath. Carol shut her eyes and clenched her jaw as she struggled with the question.

Should she tell her it was the easiest thing in the world, while also being the most appalling? That she is stricken with grief for every single life she took, even while knowing it was the only way to save those she loved? That, even now, she wanted to end Carter and his people, realizing that she would abhor herself for it?

“It changes you,” she began. “You can’t ever get that part of you back - the person you were before.” The silence that followed was strained with unspoken questions.

Carol’s thoughts drifted, flitting over all the faces of the dead as her stomach coiled with trepidation. Morgan had declared ‘all life is precious,’ and she believed that, once. When she had left on _The Turandot_ , she had given away her happiness because a part of her had always known that. Her life on the boat was her way of ensuring that she would never be put in the position to kill again.

Now she was conflicted. The lives of the men and women responsible for the atrocities Violet and Clementine endured don’t get to find joy or happiness, not anymore. Yet, every time she thought about the act - about ending their lives - the burn of acid rose up out of her gut and seared her throat.

The approach of foot falls roused her from her anxieties. It was time. Violet staggered to her feet while Carol cowered in the corner closest to the door. The lock engaged, and the door pushed open slowly.

Carter walked in with Pritchard at his heels. The man was about Carol’s height, but he was wiry. He practically hummed with energy, and she knew that their shot had to be precise. They wouldn’t get another chance.

He stopped inches from Violet, and the girl just held his gaze. Something like pride welled up inside her, watching Violet stand her ground. Pritchard stood above Carol and sneered.

“Worthless bitch,” he snarled. She flinched and averted her eyes, keeping Carter in sight as she cowered. Morning sunlight filled the room, and she surreptitiously eyed Pritchard’s weapons; a sheathed knife and a holstered pistol beckoned her. He wasn’t even watching her.

“Gotta hand it to you, blondie. You got balls,” Carter began. He raised his hand with a rattle, pill box in his fist. “Antibiotics. Don’t want that getting infected.” He started circling Violet slowly, a predator toying with its prey. She stared straight ahead, a flicker of apprehension on her face. “First, you’ve got to show me you can be a team player. I’m not wasting my time and energy bringing you back to Delta if you can’t play well with others.”

He stopped in front of her, practically chest to chest. Slowly, he reached for his belt, the clatter of the metal buckle deafening in the taut silence. “On your knees,” he said.

Violet’s eyes went wide, her lanky body stock still. Carol’s stomach churned – it had to be now. She glanced at Pritchard, who was smirking at the scene in front of them, a rapt audience. Violet slowly lowered herself to one knee, and she took a quick glance at Carol, who nodded imperceptibly.

“Look at me!” Carter barked, and Violet flinched. “I want you looking into my eyes when my dick hits the back of your throat.” She dropped herself onto both knees, the slightest tremor belying her otherwise stoic expression. “You know, that bitch at the station didn’t even cry for me? I had to mark up her pretty little face. Let’s hope for your sake you don’t disappoint me, darlin’.”

Carol was up in an instant, a strangled gurgle escaping Pritchard’s lips as her shiv sunk into his jugular, his eyes wide with astonishment. A tightening in her chest made it difficult for her to breathe even as she took twisted pleasure in observing his shock. Carter whipped around as Pritchard flailed, blood spluttering through his fingers. His forearm connected with the side of her head, but she got low and took him down. She scrabbled for his gun and heard the click of the revolver behind her. Her stomach dropped.

“Don’t fucking move,” Carter growled. Carol froze; the gurgle and squelch of blood draining out of Pritchard’s neck and her harsh breathing the only sounds in the room. She tried to tame her racing heart. Tried to push down the regret that churned up within her. Her thoughts flitted to Violet, who would surely suffer, and then to Daryl. She imagined herself as she last saw him, tucked comfortably under his arm, and her heart ached. She never wanted any of this.

The howl that erupted behind her made the fine hairs on her body shiver. Carol turned as Carter pitched to the floor, gun clattering, bloody hands clutching his crotch. Violet rose to her feet stiffly. Carter’s knife, edge slick with blood, trembled in her hand.

He whimpered on the linoleum. Carol snapped out of her shock and snatched the gun from Pritchard’s twitching body. Trained it on the writhing man at her feet.

“Wait,” Violet said, voice like gravel. Carol met her gaze and was struck by the stark pain within it. There was familiar grief shining in her eyes, but also a resoluteness that made Carol pause. She lowered her pistol and nodded.

Violet crouched next to Carter. They both watched him whine and groan, sweat shining on his brow as he clasped his bleeding groin.

“Look. At. Me,” Violet hissed. He tilted his head in her direction, his eyes wretched with suffering.

“Fucking _dyke_ ,” he spat. Groaning, he struggled to get to his knees, toppling back down when he couldn’t hold his weight. “I’ll kill you,” his voice cracked.

“No,” Violet growled, “I’m gonna kill you, you sick fuck.”

And as the words left her mouth, trembling with disgust, and her grip on the knife tightened, Carol felt a swirling uneasiness rise from her stomach into her throat. Images flickered in her mind like celluloid; a blaze of gasoline fed flames consuming the inert remains of Karen and David; a flash of Henry’s face as he pulled his sharpened staff out of Gavin’s neck. She knew all at once that she couldn’t let Violet cross that line; not if she could help it.

The shot rang out, cold and hollow; the recoil shook all the way to her core. Blood exploded from the back of Carter’s skull, and his body stilled. The silence that followed was thunderous. Carol met Violet’s gaze - saw outrage and relief in equal measure shining in her crystalline green eyes. She refused to give in to despair, both sick from the kill and satisfied that Carter would never hurt another person.

“We have to move,” she said, very aware that the noise would draw the other soldiers. “Grab the pills and - “

A gunshot rang out, making Carol’s pulse leap. It took her a second to realize that it had resounded from outside. The hope and anxiety that skipped in her heart were mirrored in Violet’s eyes, and they hastily gathered the pills and weapons.

Carol eased the door open and peeked out. There was no one in sight, so she led them down the corridor, slowing as they neared a bend. Her heart was pounding, adrenaline scorched her veins as her ears strained for any other clues to what was ahead. They halted when they heard a shout, followed by something heavy hitting the floor.

Gun up, Carol rounded the corner and stared down the sight of a crossbow, arrow trained right between her eyes. A shock of recognition shimmered in her body even as the crossbow lowered.

“Daryl,” she gasped.

Strands of hair obscured his face as he blinked at her before pulling her in a tight embrace. She barely registered Clementine’s presence as she found herself enveloped by his powerful arms, the scent of campfire and earth filling her senses and warming her core. Her thoughts raced around all the questions she had for him, but she forced herself to still and be present.

They lingered a little longer than usual, and when they separated his piercing eyes gave her the once over. She looked down at the dead soldier at their feet.

“How many?” he asked.

“I counted six; could be more. We got two of them,” she said.

“We got the rest. Time to go,” he said, turning.

She stopped him with a hand on his arm and nodded to the girls. “We need to check their gear – Violet’s hurt.”

The girl in question was pulled into a tight embrace against Clementine, but the bloodied rag around her hand was visible. Daryl gave her a brisk nod.

“A’right. C’mon.”

****

They made camp close by, at the river’s edge. Daryl wanted to keep an eye on the outpost to make sure they had taken care of the soldiers posted there. They laced metal refuse together for their perimeter, as a precaution. The clatter of hardware would alert the person on watch if a walker approached.

Dog trotted around the campfire, panting; the aromas of roasting catfish compelling him to stay close. Daryl had a successful afternoon fishing, so they saved the rations they had scavenged from the outpost for another day. Carol warmed herself by the fire while tending to their meal. Clementine and Violet sat huddled together, faces drawn with exhaustion, as close to the heat as they could get.

They had washed and bandaged Violet’s wound, and the antibiotics would hopefully prevent infection. Carol regarded the girl, thinking about her strength and stoicism throughout their ordeal. Violet hadn’t said anything, but Carol knew the girl was agitated with how everything played out. They would talk about it when Violet was ready, and for now she was content to give her space to process everything.

Carol herself only felt a frenetic numbness. Intellectually, she understood that Carter’s and Pritchard’s deaths were necessary. By removing such perversity from the world, she ensured the safety of countless individuals. The clarity with which she accepted these facts did not, however, erase the number from her mind. The number that sent spasms of grief tightening in her gut.

Twenty-five. She had killed twenty-five people. More if she counted the dozens of people that died at Terminus. That calculation was far too overwhelming for her to contemplate.

Daryl strolled into view and dropped next to her by the fire.

“Anything?” she asked, to which he shook his head.

“Nah, nothin’. I wanna stake it out a coupla days. Just to be sure,” he said.

The crackling fire and sizzling fish filled the silence between them, and Dog trotted over to Clementine to nudge her hand. The girl’s soft smile never reached her eyes, but she idly scratched behind Dog’s ears as she stared into the fire.

Both teenagers were pensive, and they reminded Carol of her own exhaustion. If it wasn’t for the lack of food for the past day and a half, she would have excused herself to a tent.

“How far’s the airport?” Clementine asked.

Daryl chewed his lip and eyed the girl cautiously. “Two days walk,” he answered. Clementine nodded, almost to herself. “Why?”

The girl met Violet’s gaze before shifting her attention back to Daryl, and Carol saw it before she spoke; the resolute straightening of her shoulders and the fire dancing in her eyes.

“We’re going to find our people,” she said.

Daryl scoffed. “Like hell ya are. Coupla teenagers taking on thirty plus soldiers? Ain’t happenin’.”

Clementine pursed her lips. “I don’t remember asking your permission,” she said, her expression stony.

“Gonna get yourself killed,” he barked.

“Why do you care?” she retorted.

Violet put a hand on her arm, concern flashing in her eyes.

Carol raised her voice. “Knock it off, both of you. We’re all worn out. Let’s talk tomorrow, after we’ve rested.”

Daryl snorted but held his tongue. He picked up his crossbow and stalked off. Carol watched him go, knowing he needed some time alone to blow off some steam.

Violet regarded Clementine curiously, eyebrows knit together. Carol flipped the fish over and surreptitiously eyed the girl.

“You okay?” she asked, breaking the tense silence.

Clementine met her gaze, her expression softening slightly. She shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah... Feeling pretty frazzled,” Clementine answered.

Carol gave her a tight smile. “I think it’s safe to say we all are,” she offered. Clementine smiled softly in response. “Come on,” Carol said, pulling the fish from the fire, “let’s eat.”

****

Carol picked her way carefully through the woods and found Daryl leaning up against a tree, forearms resting on his knees. He watched her settle down next to him, and she wordlessly handed him his dinner. A slight nod in her direction was his only acknowledgement, and he proceeded to shove forkfuls of fish in his mouth.

From this vantage point, they had an obvious line of sight into the woods. She peered off into the darkness and tucked her hands in her coat pockets, the warmth of the fire having leeched out of her bones the second she walked away. The river bend was narrow at their back. The burbling of rushing water mingled with the groaning of trees and the shifting crack of twigs and branches. Despite the cold, it was actually quite pleasant, and Carol thought of nothing at all for a while.

Daryl finished his food and dropped the tin plate next to him. His fingers twitched and picked at themselves, blunt nails scraping at cuticles.

“You okay?” she asked, breaking their silence. He met her gaze and nodded, nibbling on his lip. She smiled softly and reached out to brush strands of hair away from his forehead. They both turned their attention to the woods, mulling over their own thoughts. After a few moments of silence, just as Carol was about to take her leave, Daryl spoke.

“Tired of losing people,” he said, voice like gravel. He eyed her cautiously before staring at his hands. She heard the strain of grief in his words and shut her eyes against the flood of emotion that welled up inside of her.

Without thinking, she reached out and put her hand on his, clasping tightly. She leaned closer to him and rested her head against his shoulder. When she inhaled in his scent, she was anchored amidst the tempest of her own unpleasant reflections. They sat together for some time, taking comfort in one another. Carol knew that the trauma of living would never end, not while they were still breathing, but she would find solace where she could.


	15. Lays Open Like a Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from the song 'Angeline' by P.J. Harvey

**CLEMENTINE**

After their meal, Clementine and Violet excused themselves and ducked into their tent. It was snug, but they were planning on keeping close, anyway. Daryl took first watch that night, which gave Clementine a few hours to rest. Exhaustion caught up with her, but as she curled next to Violet, she found herself reluctant to sleep. The way Violet’s body fit against her own was something she feared she would never experience again, and she wanted to bask in it. 

The elation she felt when they told her of Carter’s death was overwhelming. She hadn’t been aware just how much his very existence weighed on her. The sweeping relief almost brought tears to her eyes, and her heart was a hundred times lighter. Coupled with Violet’s return to her arms, and she was more at peace than she had been in as long as she could remember. 

“It’s weird… I can still feel it,” Violet murmured. In the flashes of light cast by the flickering fire, Clementine glanced at her bandaged hand. 

“You get used to it,” Clementine said. She held up her hand, missing ring finger silhouetted against the fabric of the canvas. “Look, I’m wiggling my finger right now.” 

Violet snorted a laugh. “At least I can still flip people off." She demonstrated the gesture. 

“Silver lining,” Clementine quipped. Violet tucked closer, face pressed against her neck. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Violet teased, earning a chuckle from Clementine. 

“My story's embarrassing. A.J. and I got caught up with some walkers, and during the fight I crushed my finger with a car door. There was no way it would heal – the bones were shattered. So, I cut it off” -she tilted and gave Violet a peck on the cheek- “satisfied?”

Violet’s frowned, and there was a shift in atmosphere. Despite their proximity, a yawning distance seemed to gape between them. Clementine pulled back and studied Violet.

“You okay?” she asked.

Violet’s expression was troubled, her exhaustion manifesting in broad circles under her eyes. She chewed her lip and averted her gaze, twisting onto her back. Clementine waited, knowing Violet needed time to put her thoughts together. A tightening in her chest restricted her breathing as the seconds ticked by. 

“I…” Violet began, licking her lips. Her eyelids drifted shut, and she took a deep, quavering breath. When she met Clementine’s gaze, her eyes were gleaming with unshed tears. “I feel so… it’s just, the more I learn about your past, and everything you’ve gone through and everything you’ve done…” Violet looked away and shut her eyes. “I’m not good enough for you,” she whispered. “I’m not a survivor.”

Clementine was stricken; that Violet could consider such things struck her deep in her core. Violet’s certainty in her assertion made her ache. She scrambled for something to say to assuage her insecurities. 

“I can’t even begin to tell you how much you mean to me,” she began, “How much I admire your strength - ”

Violet snorted and rolled her eyes, tears flowing down her cheeks.

“Stop it, Clem,” she murmured. “That’s not fucking funny.”

Clementine sat up and reached out for Violet’s hand. 

“It’s not supposed to be,” she said, quiet but firm. “I love you and there’s no one else I want to be with. Hell, I never thought I'd _want_ to be with anybody.” She reached out, thumb brushing at the trails of tears. “You changed all that,” she murmured. “You inspire me.” Violet scoffed and pulled away, eyebrows furrowed.

“How can you fucking say that?” she cried, voice breaking. “I’m nothing - a liability. I haven’t _done_ anything – not like you. I was behind walls, Clem.” Clementine’s heart cracked with every word coming out of Violet’s mouth. “I haven’t…” her voice faded, and she shook her head. 

“Haven’t what?” Clementine pressed. Violet shut her eyes, took a couple of deep breaths. 

“Nothing,” she mumbled.

Clementine reached out and took her hand. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on,” she said.

Violet shook her head, swiped at her face with her sleeve. The tangle in Clementine’s gut clenched with every passing second. When Violet met her gaze, her face strained with sorrow.

“I wanted to kill him, Clem,” she whispered. “I… I was going to.” She swallowed. It was as if everything was whirling around Clementine, her only tether to reality the words Violet spoke with such misery. “Carol shot him, and I was so mad. Furious. She didn’t get to just _do_ that, you know?” 

Violet withdrew her hand, and the gesture jabbed at Clementine’s heart. 

“But you know what I felt, more than anger?” Violet went on. “I was _relieved_ ,” she spat, self-mockery sharpening the words. “After everything he did to our friends, everything he did to _you_ … ” her voice cracked, “… and I was fucking relieved I didn’t have to. I’m a coward, Clem,” she said with disgusted finality. She gathered her knees to her chest, hugging her arms around them, making herself small. 

Clementine was reeling. All the thoughts in her head melted together, making it impossible for her to speak. Her heart ached; her throat was tight. Time slipped away, and she needed to say something; she needed to make this right.

“Vi, I - ” 

“Don’t,” Violet interrupted. “I’m not a survivor,” she repeated, “I’m just gonna get you killed.” 

Clementine sought her gaze, but Violet wouldn’t look at her. Her expression was bitter, her posture defensive. Everything inside Clementine screamed at her to say something, to say anything. She observed, helpless, as Violet withdrew further into her self-loathing. 

“You’ve saved me,” Clementine croaked. “And I’m not just talking about when you stepped between Marlon and me, or when you shot Lilly in the woods. I’m not even talking about how you found people to get me out of that station.” Clementine moved closer. “You brought _me_ back.” 

Violet met her gaze then, her eyebrows furrowing with confusion, her face softening. 

“I’ve done things I hate myself for," Clementine continued. "I did them for A.J., to keep him safe. He was all that mattered for so long, and I forgot how to care about anything else.” Clementine held her breath as she reached out, exhaling when Violet didn’t withdraw her hand. “You showed me that life is worth living. That I can love and be loved even with the world dying all around us.” 

She leaned closer, and her confidence bolstered when Violet didn’t pull away. They gazed in each other’s eyes, all their pain and loss and uncertainty coiling and tightening between them. Violet trembled, and Clementine reached out and smoothed her palm against her cheek. She leaned in close, and Violet’s breath hitched in her throat. 

“I don’t ever want to lose you,” Clementine breathed. Their lips brushed together and Clementine’s heart pounded against her ribs. Seconds ticked by, long enough for Clementine’s hope to falter. Fear shivered through her, uncertain if she had said enough. 

After what felt like an eternity, Violet took a shaky breath.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she sighed, and brought their lips together. Clementine moaned deep in her chest, her eyes snapping shut while her body instantly thrummed to life. Jubilation buoyed her heart as Violet’s hands came to either side of her face, deepening the kiss. Their low hums softened the hard edges of grief.

When they parted, she wiped away the tracks on Violet’s cheeks and pulled her in a tight embrace. Relief warmed her through. While she knew there would be more to do to assuage Violet’s uncertainty, their connection was powerful. They would get through it. 

“I’m sorry,” Violet said into her shoulder. Clementine squeezed tighter.

“You never need to be,” she murmured. 

****

Clementine woke with a start, the flicker of her nightmare charging the surrounding stillness with apprehension. She identified Violet, fast asleep, and her shoulders sagged with relief. God knew she needed the rest. 

The cinders of her dream ghosted images of horses and fire behind her closed eyelids. She shook her head as if casting them aside, forced herself to steady her breathing. Frustration burned her eyes, knowing how desperately she needed sleep. She was strung out, brittle, and more than a little concerned that her body would betray her at a crucial moment. That someone would get hurt or worse because she was frayed at the edges. 

Since she was up for the next watch, she gathered her gun and bowie knife, careful not to wake Violet. Before leaving, she pressed her lips against her temple. Her body shivered as she exited the tent and picked her path carefully to Daryl. 

He observed her approach and when she dropped next to him, his gravelly voice broke through the hush of the night.

“Should rest," he said. "Got another hour.” 

“I don’t sleep much these days,” she replied. He grunted in response, but made no effort to leave. They remained together in silence, and Clementine lost herself in her reflections. Reached out and idly scratched behind Dog’s ear. So much had happened to them, and there was so much more ahead. She’d have to rest before they approached Delta.

“Ya shouldn’t go.” His voice dragged her back in the present, and the first prickle of annoyance pursed her lips. “Not smart. And you're a smart kid.” 

It was hard to interpret his expression, but there was something deadly serious in his tone. She shifted uneasily, and couldn’t decide whether to be exacerbated or flattered. Her usual hard edge with Daryl softened, and all at once she let her guard down. 

“I have to find my son,” she said, voice wavering. Her gaze drifted to the surrounding woods. “He and Violet – they’re all the family I have left.” She met his gaze and thought she recognized a spark of understanding in his eyes. He studied her for a long moment.

“What you're gonna do, ya need people,” he said. Deep down, Clementine knew he was right; that going in, just Violet and her, would be inordinately dangerous. But she had done it before, going to hell and back at McCarroll ranch. Clementine couldn’t risk delaying any longer. If A.J. and Tennessee were alive, they needed them. 

She inspected him in the dark; appraised his powerful hands and scarred face. Battle wounds from a twisted world. She didn’t know much about him, but knew what it took to survive this world. He would have done things that he was ashamed of saving the people he loved. He would have had to be braver than he would have ever have imagined. She came to a decision and met his gaze again.

“So come with us,” she said. He studied her for a moment, chewing his lip. It seemed like he was seeking something in her gaze; she felt exposed but didn’t avert her eyes. Having found what he was looking for, he nodded once. 

Dog perked up and was still, staring off into the woods. Adrenaline spiked through Clementine’s veins as a low growl rumbled in his chest. She and Daryl pivoted into low crouches, peering into the darkness. Dog issued a quick bark and bolted past their tin can boundary with a clatter. 

Daryl rose from his crouch and was off, Clementine trailing behind him. Her heart was racing. She didn’t hear any sign of walkers, which meant they were dealing with people. 

She saw Daryl stop and raise his crossbow. Dog was at his side, growling low, hackles up. 

“Good boy,” Daryl said, and that’s when Clementine spotted his target. A dog, thickly muscled and wounded. She was snarling.

“Wait!” she cried. He paused, and the only sounds were the low growls from Dog and his quarry. “Rosie,” she breathed. Daryl kept the American bully trained in his crosshairs, but looked at her with curiosity. She approached, heart racing. 

“Careful,” Daryl warned. She crouched down and studied the dog. Rosie’s fur was patchy and filthy, skin rubbed raw along her flank, scratches along her haunches. Her ribs were straining the skin, sharp angles of bone. 

Clementine whistled in the tone she remembered Marlon using. Rosie’s snarling turned into low whining. Carefully and, with a calmness that surprised herself, Clementine presented her hand for the dog to sniff. 

“That’s a good girl, Rosie. You remember me?” she crooned. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Rosie whined again, and Clementine’s spirit soared when the dog rubbed her wet muzzle into her palm. “That’s it, sweet girl,” she murmured. Rosie tottered close to her and leaned against Clementine, snout nuzzling her hand. 

Tears, surprising and joyful, slid down her cheeks as she embraced the dog. The impossibility of it all filled her with wonder. Finding Rosie was the sign she needed, an emblem of hope shining through all of their darkness. A.J. was alive. He was alive, and they were going to find him. Laughter bubbled up in her and spilled out into the night. Through the blur of her tears, she was sure that she saw Daryl smile.


	16. Something More to Give You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slow chapter, with lots of angst and feelings. The story will take our protagonists into the fire soon, and I wanted to flesh out their experiences and give them a breather before that happens. There is some self-harm in this chapter.

**VIOLET**

When Violet woke up that morning, she was clear, empty of thought. It was a moment of serenity, a sense of disembodiment in that time between sleep and consciousness. The second her hand throbbed, she registered the solid, cold earth underneath her and that’s when everything came rushing back. Her chest tightened with reacquainted grief, and she couldn’t pull in a full breath. _Is this it?_ she thought. _Is this how it’s always gonna be?_ She ground her knuckles in the corner of her eyes and sat up.

The tattered canvas of the tent glowed with predawn light. The crackle of the campfire and tickle of smoke in the air had her salivating. Violet was constantly ravenous, even before food was a scarcity. The fish from the previous night’s dinner was the first she had eaten in days, and her stomach yearned for more.

She sat up stiffly. Muscles she didn’t even realize she had tightened and groaned in response. She was alone - Clementine must still be on watch. Her eyebrows furrowed when she reflected on the previous evening. While she was still skeptical about her own capabilities, she knew Clementine meant everything she said. That certainty soothed her heart amidst the howl of her insecurities.

She crawled out of the tent and blinked around the campsite. Daryl sat by the fire, and she started when she noticed the blood on his hands. It took her an instant before she realized he was holding some kind of rodent, on its way to being stripped clean of its pelt. He eyed her and nodded, but continued his task.

Violet stood tall and stretched, back popping along with the crackle of the fire. She was headed towards the river when Daryl’s gruff voice stopped her.

“Might wanna check on your girl,” he said. She twisted around, eyebrows furrowed. He shook his head and the corner of his mouth pulled up. “Ain’t bad,” he added.

Frowning, Violet ducked past some low-hanging branches toward their lookout. Despite his assurance, she hurried along, anxious to find Clementine.

As she approached the large pine tree that marked the edge of their camp, she heard Clementine murmuring.

“Clem?” she asked, voice gruff with sleep. She rounded the tree and saw Clementine’s glowing smile first and then… “ _What the shit?_ ”

Rosie was by her side, panting. The dog was emaciated, skin patchy and raw through the fur, but she was there, alive and curled under Clementine’s arm. The impossibility of it had Violet dumbfounded, and she didn’t snap out of her stupor until she heard Clementine’s musical laugh.

“Your face pretty much sums up how I felt when we found her,” she said, eyes crinkling with delight.

Violet’s laughter, foreign and spontaneous, welled up inside of her. The sound was peculiar in the steely air, but she hardly noticed. She stooped low and offered her hand to Rosie, who sniffed at her before nuzzling her snout into her palm. The smile that came to her, unbidden, reflected a shift in her temperament. Her dark speculations from the previous night wavered and broke; Rosie’s presence was a beam of light that warmed her spirit.

Violet sat against the tree with Rosie nestled between them. She took a deep breath and scratched the dog in that sweet spot behind her ears.

“How do you think she made it?” Violet mulled.

Clementine hummed softly. “I’m still trying to figure out how _we_ made it,” she laughed. Violet grinned, held her eyes. When she leaned close, Clementine’s eyes fluttered shut. They shared a soft, sweet kiss, and when they parted Clementine’s smile was bright. She cocked her head to the side. “You doing okay?”

Violet worried at her lip and nodded. “Okay,” she said. And then she met Clementine’s eyes, which radiated warmth and affection. The tension seeped out of her bones at the sight. “Better,” she added, softly.

Clementine smiled, and they rested in companionable silence while the woods woke up around them. Despite the chill, Violet was warmed through; centered in the face of the uncertainty ahead. Wonder overwhelmed her as she gently stroked Rosie’s flank.

“I talked to Daryl; he’s coming with us,” Clementine said, “He’s going to talk to Carol today.”

Surprised, Violet met her gaze. “That’s… good. I meant to ask what was up with you two.”

Clementine gave her a rueful smile. 

“He just rubbed me the wrong way, is all. I feel kind of stupid that I let him push my buttons.”

Violet cocked her head. “Wanna talk about it?”

Clementine was silent while she thought it over, staring off into the woods.

“I got irritated when he hinted I didn’t know what I was doing,” she said, shrugging. “It’s silly. None of that matters in the end.”

Violet hummed softly. “Guess you proved him wrong,” she said.

Clementine furrowed her eyebrows. “What makes you say that?”

Violet fidgeted with a small hole in her jeans and shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t think he’d take the risk if he doubted you.”

Clementine seemed to mull that over. The gentle sounds of the river were soothing, and Violet allowed herself to enjoy the moment. She pretended it was just the two of them, sharing a pause, promising each other safety and security with a touch, a glance, a smile. She shut her eyes and let the crisp morning air fill her lungs and inflate her spirit.

****

The day passed swiftly. Violet and Clementine spent the morning by the river, fishing. The water was ice cold, but the catfish were plentiful. Rosie wouldn’t leave their side, tottering along after them and stretching out on the bank, panting over their catch.

Violet was taking her turn in the water, pants rolled up to her thighs, Daryl’s makeshift spear clasped in her upraised fist.

“Come on, come on…” she muttered, eyeing a particularly large fish. Its distinctive whiskers floated around its flat head while it swam by her ankles lazily. The hand holding the spear was kept aloft, her entire body taut and almost humming with tension as she waited for her moment. The fish started swimming away, and she sprang, arm snapping down with precision. She felt firm resistance as the spear pierced the flesh just below its head. Elated, Violet straightened and held the impaled and writhing animal above the water.

She began her slog back to the bank, which is when she noticed Carol crouched by Clementine, talking. After a moment, Clementine stood and walked towards camp - Rosie chuffed and followed along after her. Violet felt an uncomfortable irritation at the sight of the older woman; the bitterness from the previous day sharp. At the bank, she dropped the now still fish along with the others with a little more heat than intended.

Carol gestured for her to sit, and Violet dried off her legs and unrolled her pants to fight the chill. She watched the older woman pull clean bandages from her pack while twinges of resentment tightened her features. They hadn’t spoken since the outpost.

Carol began unwrapping her hand. “I know you’re upset,” she began. Violet looked on, fascinated by the raw flesh at the end of her hand, her ghost finger flexing unconsciously. She chewed her lip, and while Carol cleaned the wound, she wondered how she could express herself respectfully. “We should talk about it,” Carol added.

Carol’s expression was neutral, skin weathered and aged beyond her years. The heaviness of loss swirled around her like a black hole, an unseen event horizon of grief and pain pulling her inexorably closer to the brink, threatening to consume them both. Violet’s anger softened, but her irritation lingered.

She said, haltingly, “You… you didn’t get to just kill him.” Carol kept her gaze on the task, adroitly binding the wound back up. “It should’ve been me,” Violet’s voice faltered. She eyed the tablets that Carol offered her and gulped them down in one dry swallow. The soreness in her hand took on an angry indignation at being handled; pain throbbed the length of her arm and settled in her jaw. Violet breathed through it, content to use the ache to keep her thoughts steady.

Carol stared off at the river. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, she murmured, “Maybe so.” She turned her attention to Violet, and Violet held her gaze, even as her irritation wavered. “I’ve seen too many people take that on. I was trying to protect you-”

“You don’t get it,” Violet countered, heat rising in her once again. “I’ve _been_ protected. I had to do it for a lot of reasons. For my friends, for Clementine.” She looked away. “For myself.”

Bleak shame welled up inside of her, curling in her gut and flushing her chest; as intimate as an old lover. She made a fist with her left hand, and the fiery ache that pounded through her arm and into her chest derailed her from spiraling further into her self-pity. Taking a deep breath, she steadied her thoughts and met Carol’s gaze. “I needed to know I could.”

Carol studied her, and Violet couldn’t shake the notion that she was peeling away all the barriers she built up for herself; like she could see right through her hard, stoic exterior.

Carol said softly, “You can.”

Violet shook her head. “How can you know that?”

“You’re strong,” Carol said, quietly. “It’s how you survived… even before the world fell apart.”

Her words struck Violet like a sucker punch, slamming the air out of her lungs as she strove to draw another breath. _How does she know…?_ she thought wildly.

And then air came rushing back along with sudden realization. The timid, frightened act that Carol affected for the soldiers - she had _been_ that woman. In another life, perhaps, but Carol still knew her intimately and profoundly; the psychological scars long since healed but emblazed on every aspect of who she is. Violet was floored, and couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it earlier. Had it been her father? Her husband?

She turned her gaze to the river, her anger forgotten as she contemplated the woman next to her. They were more alike than she had known, but that didn’t erase her shame. Violet remembered the fierce wave of relief that had surged through her entire body when Carol killed Carter. Maybe they had some type of common history; some abuse of trust and power that forced them to adapt in order to survive. That didn’t change the fact that her inexperience could get people hurt.

“Just because you can,” Carol continued, “doesn’t mean you should have to.” Violet’s eyebrows furrowed, and she chewed on her lip. When she met Carol’s gaze, the woman offered her the phantom of a smile. Violet gave her a hesitant nod. She tried hard to accept Carol’s words at face value, despite the tightening in her gut.

“Come on,” Carol said, straightening to her feet. “We should get you by the fire.” She extended her hand, and Violet took a split second before reaching out and accepting the light assistance. They gathered the fish and headed back to camp.

****

That evening, Daryl came back to camp and announced that they should move on. They would begin the two-day trek to Delta the following day. Armed knowing that they were moving towards saving the boys, Violet let herself think of Tennessee, something she had avoided for a long time.

Tennessee had been so timid, but his perception of the world was unique. It was a kind of pragmatic idealism, something Violet knew they could all benefit from. He understood death, and he understood walkers. That knowledge never swayed his confidence that people would be reunited in an afterlife as the humans they once were.

Violet had appreciated his innocence more than anything. That he could grow up in a disrupted world and find beauty gave her hope that maybe there could be something better for them all.

So much had happened since Ericson’s, so many things that should have destroyed any lingering optimism she held on to. Despite all the loss and pain, she found that there was still a fire inside of her, small but bright. She had Clementine. She had Aasim and, against all odds, Rosie.

Violet observed Clementine while dressing a catfish. Concentration furrowed her features as deft fingers cleaned the fish in her hands. Violet’s heart swelled and her face burned as she studied the girl next to her. How she got so lucky, she’d never know.

Clementine tossed Rosie the fish guts, which she happily swallowed. Dog whined next to Violet, and she offered the innards of her fish. He inhaled it and licked his chops. She caught Daryl watching her behind the grimy curtain of his hair. There was something intimidating about his gaze, and it reminded her of how Carol had looked at her earlier – like he could see her clearer than she could see herself. She shrugged off the impression.

Daryl got the fire burning, and soon fish and rodent were roasting over the flames. Violet’s mouth watered with the first few aromas of caramelized skin. The six of them sat close to the warmth, both dogs opting to settle near Clementine; Violet caught Daryl giving Dog the side eye. The days were growing shorter, and already the sun was tucked away behind the tree line, whatever warmth it had imparted during the day chasing it over the horizon.

Violet stretched her legs toward the fire and idly ran a cloth along the edge of her hatchet, scraping away dried blood and grime. Thoughts of Louis surfaced in her mind, and she remembered his antics with affection. He would have already started a get-to-know-each-other card game by now, and the image of Daryl being cajoled out of his shell by the gregarious and persuasive teenager brought a smile to her lips.

“What’re you thinking about?” Clementine’s smooth voice pulled her back to the present.

Violet gave her a small smile. “Louis. How he’d have us playing some stupid game by now.” 

Clementine chuckled lightly. “Are you saying you want to fire up a game of Truth or Dare?” she teased.

Violet snorted. “Funny.”

Clementine put her knife down and shifted so that she settled along Violet with one leg stretched over hers. Even though she knew it wasn’t intentional, the possessiveness of the gesture made Violet’s heart race – she liked being Clementine’s. She put down her hatchet and draped an arm around her shoulders.

Carol and Daryl both tended to dinner, keeping the fire fed and rotating the meat to ensure even exposure to the flames. Violet was drowsy, and the combined warmth of Clementine’s body and the fire made her thoughts slow and lazy.

A memory of Omar, standing above his cauldron, tweaking the flavor of their ubiquitous stew provoked a spasm of distress. That discomfort softened as she saw him chuckling at something Louis said, his eyes so bright and full of mirth. She hadn’t spent a lot of time with their cook, but she found she had a well of positive memories from him.

Soon enough, the clatter of tin roused her, and she blinked. Night had fallen, and she realized she must have dozed off. Clementine was still fast asleep against her. Her thigh had gone numb from a prolonged awkward position, and as she attempted to shift, Clementine woke up with a start. While she oriented herself, Violet bent and pressed her lips against her temple.

“Hey, babe,” she whispered.

Clementine met her gaze, her eyes twinkling. She quirked an eyebrow. “Babe?” she murmured and leaned in to give Violet a quick kiss before she could be embarrassed.

Carol filled plates with piles of fish and squirrel, and Violet’s stomach growled as she accepted hers. Dog and Rosie were both given a heaping portion of meat, and both finished their food before all their humans received plates.

They ate, the clink and scrape of metal utensils and the crackling fire filled the silence.

“I can take first watch tonight,” Clementine said, addressing the group. Daryl shoved a last bite into his mouth and wiped his face with the back of his hand.

“Nah,” he said, around the mouthful of food. “We got it.” Violet felt Clementine stiffen, but before she could say anything, Carol followed up.

“I’ve got first watch, Daryl’s got second. If we’re coming with you, that’s the deal, right there,” she said. Clementine, features pulled tight, nodded a curt assent. “Alright. We’ll move at first light.”

****

Violet watched the flickering light inside their tent, the nervous shadows flitting along the canvas as the flames danced. Clementine was curled against her, wrapped within her embrace. The food settled in her stomach made her warm and lethargic. Exhaustion hit her, but she didn’t want to sleep, not yet. The weight and warmth of Clementine’s body felt like home, and she wanted to enjoy the comfort it gave her.

Her thoughts were slow as she ran her fingers through the dark curls of Clementine’s hair. Tomorrow was the start of something, and she would see it through to the end.

Clementine’s voice was heavy with sleep. “We’ll find them…” It was neither an assertion nor a question, and Violet’s chest ached at how small her voice sounded. She gently placed her lips against her brow.

“We will,” she murmured, holding her tight. Clementine’s breathing became slow and steady as she drifted off to sleep, and Violet knew it was true. The swell of hope in her heart anchored that knowledge in her body and in her bones. She wouldn’t let her self-doubt get in the way. They would find Tennessee and A.J. They would find their family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! As this story winds down to its end, I want to take the time necessary to make sure I do it justice. So, apologies in advance for the slower updates, but hopefully the finished product will be worth it! <3


	17. Trip My Wire

**CAROL**

The journey took longer than it should have. They set out under a dreary sky that seemed to brood over them. Carol’s initial concern was that they could expect rain, but as they picked their path through the woods, the bitter air burned her lungs and seeped into her bones. A first snow might be in their future.

Daryl led the way, Dog trotting beside him. Carol watched his deliberate movements while also keeping an ear perked to their surroundings. It wouldn’t do for them to get caught up with a herd.

Violet and Clementine were in the rear, keeping well within each other’s orbit. Carol couldn’t fault them. After all they had been through, they would need time together to heal. Knowing they were about to step into danger soon, Carol felt a profound sadness weigh her down. Nothing was as it should be.

Daryl held a hand up and when she paused, she heard the moans. By the sound of it, there was a large group of walkers somewhere close. When she looked, the girls had their weapons drawn and were scanning their surroundings. Daryl nodded and led the way forward in a crouch, moving through the woods in silence. Rosie growled low in her throat before Clementine whispered soothingly to her.

They arrived at a clearing, careful to keep hidden behind trees and shrub. Carol saw the walkers – a small herd, maybe a hundred crossing the far end of the field. She observed carefully and couldn’t spot any intervention, but wasn’t certain she would.

“Whisperers?” she asked, quietly. Daryl stared hard and after a moment shook his head.

“Don’t see ‘em,” he murmured. “Gonna hafta go around.” Clementine’s expression grew dark and uneasy.

Daryl glanced at her. “S’okay. We’ll get there,” he said. The girl’s expression tightened, but she gave him a curt nod. He turned and strode through the woods, angling their little group further west, away from the river.

They walked all day under the threatening sky. Carol suspected the storm – as she now understood it to be - would hit during the night. Depending on its severity, it would present two scenarios – it could provide cover for an approach to Delta, or it could also prohibit travel. They would need to stake out shelter for the evening no matter what.

Daryl looked at the sky and Carol knew he was thinking the same thing. They made eye contact, and he glanced back at Clementine. The gesture was obvious – they wouldn’t talk about stopping long term until they were sure they had to.

She fell into step beside him, considering. Daryl cared for Clementine, despite being at odds with each other. He had lost so much after the turn – his brother, and then so many members of his chosen family. Despite that, she watched him shed his long-held insecurities and grow into the force he was today.

Daryl could still tap into his humanity, something she had been seeking in herself for so long. Maybe that was part of why she was so drawn to him – he inspired her to keep trying.

She glanced back at the girls and her expression tightened. They wore coats and scarves, but Violet was having a hard time with the cold. Her arms wrapped around her chest and her breath came out in shaky little puffs, as if she were shivering. Carol noted again just how slight the girl was – tattered jeans the only thing covering her thin legs. She eyed the darkening sky once more and murmured to Daryl.

“We need to find somewhere before this storm hits,” she said. He grunted in confirmation and pulled a battered map out of his back pocket. They studied it while walking, and he traced his finger along the paper.

“We’re here, just about.” He stabbed at a town called Pikesville. “Aaron an’ I passed through before. Small town. Not a lotta walkers.”

Carol nodded. “Let’s go.”

****

The wind was picking up as they made their final approach to town. While obscured by the clouds, Carol knew the sun had just set, and soon they wouldn’t have any light.

Daryl led them to a gas station. Cars were parked out front, layered in rust and grime from years of inactivity and exposure. The tangy smell of mineral and decay assaulted them, and Carol steeled herself for worse to come.

The front door was intact, and Daryl shouldered it open. They listened for any signs of walkers and hearing none, cautiously fanned out inside. Violet closed the door, obscuring any last remnants of light. They had acquired a few flashlights at the Delta outpost, and they flicked those on to begin their search.

The air was sour and rotten, but, Carol noted, it was that of compost rather than the dead. Beams of light gleamed over twisted metal and debris. Cars that had been in various stages of repair now looked like they could have been found at the bottom of the sea; corroded to the point of obscurity.

Clementine and Violet checked the office, while she and Daryl continued their sweep of the garage. They reconvened moments later.

“It’s clear,” Clementine said.

Violet looked around, wary. “Why the auto shop?” she asked, shivering. Daryl pushed past them towards the front door, and Carol went about clearing a space on the floor.

“We need a fire. It’s a big space, drafty. We won’t have to worry about the smoke.”

Violet nodded appreciatively, and they started setting up their camp.

Daryl recruited Clementine to help him find wood, and they made several trips while Violet and Carol set up their tents. On one of their last trips, they came back sprinkled with snow.

Dog explored the area and got underfoot, while Rosie kept close to Violet. The dog was distressed whenever Clementine wasn’t around, whining and snuffling until Violet soothed her with a low, measured voice.

They barred the front door and huddled around their meager fire. Carol kept the flames low. She worried they would need to stay longer than they’d like, so she used the wood sparingly.

Their circumstances echoed their flight from The Kingdom, so many months ago. Carol remembered too well the fitful night spent at The Sanctuary. The ferrous and smoky scents of the garage were virtually identical to the industrial waste of the factory. The effect hardened something in her gut, her thoughts wandering back to the Kingdom, to Ezekiel.

It all seemed unbelievable to her. Ezekiel’s unwavering optimism broke down the walls she built and she could pretend, for a little while, that she deserved the fairy tale. Henry’s death was a brutal reminder that she would never get a ‘happily ever after’, and she floundered in bitterness until the moment she ended her relationship with Ezekiel. She needed to find strength in solitude, needed to distance herself from everything she loved.

She scanned the weary faces around the fire, conflicted. Part of her was grateful to connect again, to develop new relationships and strengthen existing bonds. Another part of her, the logical, analytic side, knew it could only end badly. She would do anything for the people she loved, and that was the problem. Carol didn’t know how to reconcile these disparate parts of herself.

Violet huddled against Clementine, as close to the fire as they could get. Both girls looked as though they wanted to crawl up inside one another; the flickering light cast deep shadows and etched their exhaustion with hard lines. They looked so much older than their years; weary and threadbare.

The wind howled outside. With each gust, Clementine’s expression became more withdrawn. They ate the last of the catfish and squirrel, which warmed Carol up. The girls retreated to their tent, Rosie settling down next to it on a scrappy towel Clementine found.

Carol stared into the fire, letting her mind drift. She peered over at Daryl, watched his hands twitch as he picked at his cuticles.

“Tomorrow, I’ll go ‘round, see if I can find some gear,” he said. She gave him a nod, and he looked her over. “Ya alright?”

She offered him a wan smile and shrugged a shoulder. “Have to be.”

He nodded, chewing his lip. There was something in his gaze that stirred her gut; an acute affection that warmed her body and forced her to avert her eyes. Her chest was tight, and she had a tough time drawing a full breath. Carol stood, collecting the plates and avoiding eye contact.

“You should get some rest,” she stated, meeting his gaze. Daryl gave her a small nod and ducked into the tent.

Carol dropped heavily next to the fire and drew a deep breath, settling into her watch shift. The connection she had with Daryl was something she didn’t have to think about, but this new intensity surprised her. The timing of it all. Thoughts of something more between them had crossed her mind in the past, and she was sure that they had crossed his, but neither one of them had made a move.

For her, it stemmed from her conflicted desire to remain distant, but she couldn’t deny that the more time she spent with him, the more drawn she was.

“Hey,” Violet’s raspy voice interrupted her reflections. The girl settled next to the fire, wrapping her arms around herself while regarding her with curiosity. Her sharp features were drawn, as if sleep had done little to ease her exhaustion. Carol blinked, realized that several hours had passed already. “You okay?”

Carol forced herself to offer a smile. “Fine,” she replied. Violet’s eyebrows furrowed, but she said nothing. Uneasiness twisted in her gut as she observed the girl’s worried expression. To break through the tension, Carol continued. “Just a lot on my mind,” she added.

Violet nodded in understanding and shifted her attention to the fire, shivering. Carol rose and stretched, gestured to the wood nearby. “Add more if you need,” she offered. The girl gave her a faint smile before Carol turned and bowed into the tent.

Daryl was sprawled on his back, asleep. By the faint firelight, Carol observed his chest rising and falling with every rhythmic breath. She settled next to him, her side flush against his. Despite her fatigue, her nerves were alight with agitation.

She inhaled his scent, and before she knew what she was doing, she tucked herself against his shoulder. He grunted and shifted, his arm curling around her shoulders as she closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. Her heart fluttered even as exhaustion overtook her.

****

When Carol opened her eyes, she started. Daryl’s arm draped around her shoulders and his chest rose and fell evenly. She blinked, realized that she had slept soundly for the first time in as long as she could recall. Her body was stiff, but she felt refreshed and rested.

Daryl’s soft breathing enticed her to close her eyes again, but she resisted the urge and gently extricated herself from his arm. She studied him for a moment. Sleep softened his expression, and she was reminded of the young man she had met at the turn, before the strain of nine years of trauma ravaged and hardened his features. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply before exiting the tent.

****

The storm seemed to wane. There was a foot of snow on the ground, and large, fluffy flakes were falling, but the wind had died down. Daryl took Clementine with him to find gear; Carol knew it was his way of taking her mind off their halted progress.

Before they left, Carol observed how jittery the girl was. She recognized the deep circles under her eyes and wondered when was the last time Clementine had slept through the night. As soon as they left, Violet became withdrawn, her own exhaustion manifesting through her posture and slow movements.

Not for the first time, Carol wondered if they were making the right move. She had compassion for them, knowing what it was like to lose family. If they were going to do this, they all needed to be as close to a hundred percent as possible.

Carol picked through the supplies scavenged from Delta, locating the bag of medication. She sifted through and sighed with relief when she found what she was looking for. Pocketing the pills, she thought that things were looking up.

Clementine and Daryl returned in the early evening, laden with bags. He was right when he said the town was untouched. They had concentrated on finding clothes, and found pieces that could serve as long underwear for them all, even if the sizing was off. Violet ducked into a dark corner to put hers on as soon as they were revealed.

They had found a dozen traffic flares at the local public works building, which they all agreed could be useful as a distraction.

Carol stoked the fire and cobbled together a meal from Delta’s rations. Daryl dropped next to her, bundled in a fresh pair of gloves and a Russian Cossack hat. She snorted a laugh.

Daryl glanced at her. “What?” he demanded. She chuckled and shook her head.

“Nothing,” she said. “I just didn’t know we were crossing the Siberian tundra.”

He scoffed, but his eyes were alight with amusement.

Smiling, she turned her attention back to the stew. Across the fire, Clementine was leaning against Violet with her eyes shut. Carol fished in her pocket and tossed the pills to Violet.

“Found these,” she said.

Violet eyebrows furrowed. “Benadryl?” she asked.

“Should help you sleep,” Carol said. Violet nodded and shifted her concerned expression towards Clementine. “When was the last time she slept through the night?” Carol asked, quietly.

Violet swallowed, her features tense. She shrugged.

“Can’t remember,” she said, and Carol sighed. She glanced over at Daryl, and he nodded.

“We got watch tonight,” he said to Violet. She looked like she wanted to argue, but with a glance at Clementine, thought better of it.

"Thanks," she murmured.

Dinner was a quiet affair, and after Violet and Clementine retired to their tent, Daryl nodded towards her.

“You sleep. I’ll wake ya later,” he said. Carol’s own exhaustion was catching up with her. She glanced at Daryl and couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.

“Only if I get to call you ‘Dimitri’ when you’re wearing the hat,” she teased.

Daryl snorted. “Stop.”

She chuckled and ducked into her tent.

****

They started out at dawn after a hurried meal. Violet and Clementine were groggy but rested, and Carol was thankful again for the supplies they found at the outpost. The snow was still falling, and the temperature had dropped overnight. It was fortunate they had found more gear.

Daryl was leading them to another town, about a third of the way between Pikesville and the airport. He pointed out that the dogs wouldn’t be able to do more than three miles at a time in the snow. Clementine wasn’t pleased, but she had to concede that he was right.

Trekking through the snow was laborious and slow, but one advantage was that walkers were easy to spot. Carol took down several as they struggled through the snow. The spatter of viscous brown blood against the pristine white made her stomach roil. There wasn’t much that nauseated her, but something about the thick liquid staining the purity of the fresh snow got to her; if only reminding her of the virus’ decimation of life as she knew it.

Despite the extra layers, Carol was soaked to the bone. She was going to suggest stopping earlier when Daryl pointed ahead. She followed his gaze and identified the hazy silhouettes of houses. Relieved, the group put their heads down and closed in on the town.

They found a church to spend the night in. After clearing out the couple of walkers inside, they set up camp. Carol went about making two fires, while the others stripped out of their wet clothes in favor of scavenged back up clothing. Daryl rigged a clothes line next to the fire furthest away from their tents while Carol changed out of her wet clothes.

It was early evening by the time they were dry and warm. They ate in silence, each one of them lost in their own heads. Carol was bone weary and looking forward to relaxing for a few hours; Daryl was taking first watch.

****

Carol woke to shouting and snarling, adrenaline rushing through her veins. She barreled out of her tent in an instant. The light from the fires cast sharp shadows around the cavernous space, and she saw Clementine and Violet both emerge from their tent as she sprinted towards the altercation.

Dog and Rosie were barking but keeping distance from the tussling bodies near the pulpit. She approached and drew her gun even as Daryl was swept off his feet, landing hard on his back. A hooded figure raised an arm, holding aloft an ice axe, and Carol’s heart thundered in her throat.

“Stop!” she shouted. The figure paused for a moment and Daryl was on top of them in an instant, a low growl in his throat. She scaled the few stairs and watched Daryl land two solid punches to the person’s gut, doubling them over. He pushed off to his feet and Carol trained the revolver on the wheezing figure.

Clementine soothed Rosie and Dog trotted to Daryl’s side, a menacing growl in his throat. There were two ice axes on the ground and Carol kicked them aside while Daryl roughly tied the person’s hands behind their back.

Clementine said, “Violet and I will check the perimeter,” and they hurried off with Rosie at their heels.

Daryl tugged the hood away. By the flickering light, Carol found herself looking at the face of a young woman. She had short, dirty blond hair, a narrow face and expansive features. She winced and attempting to draw in a full breath. Carol’s first guess was that she was from Delta, but her gear suggested otherwise. Aside from the ice axes and a small pocket knife, she didn’t have any weapons, and a cursory glance in her pack revealed scavenged supplies and food.

The woman was finally able to take a breath, and her watery eyes flitted around with suspicion.

“Let me go,” she hissed, and Daryl snorted. He snatched his crossbow from the ground and wiped at his bleeding lip with his hand.

“Not 'til you tell us who the hell you are,” he growled.

The woman huffed an impatient breath. “I don’t want trouble.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Daryl barked.

“You’re the one that drew on me, remember?” she said, heatedly.

Carol raised her voice. “Enough.” She squatted down next to the woman, holding her gaze. “Are you with a group?” The woman’s jaw stiffened, and she stared off past Carol’s shoulder. She tried another tack. “What do you want from us?” When the blond held her silence, Daryl got right in her face.

“Answer her!” he barked. The woman flinched but kept her gaze steady. He huffed and started pacing behind Carol, who continued to regard her. Sighing, she got to her feet and turned to Daryl.

“We can’t let her go,” she said, and he grunted a confirmation. Carol’s heart fluttered as she gave Daryl the once over. His lip was busted open and swollen, but he seemed okay otherwise. She turned on her heel and called to the girls. “Violet! Clementine!”

The woman’s attention jerked first to Carol, then to the approaching girls. Her eyebrows furrowed, and when she caught sight of Clementine, her expression shifted to that of wonder. Clementine stepped up to join them and her eyes met their captive’s, and Carol watched her features twist into astonishment.

“Clementine?” the woman breathed. “Is it really you?”

And then Clementine’s shocked voice, quavering; “Molly?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was always a fan of Molly and thought that if anyone could make it in the apocalypse, it would be her.


	18. The Calm Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from s9ep15. 
> 
> There is a short sexually explicit scene in this. It'll be marked with 0000000000 before and after for those of you who prefer to skip it. Thanks for reading!

**CLEMENTINE**

“Molly?”

Clementine was floored. She stared at the blonde and memories rushed into her consciousness. She remembered Savannah, being hemmed in by walkers, and how Molly led them to safety on the rooftops. Clementine had been so afraid that she’d never see Lee again. Molly had told her that Lee would return with ‘Hilda’ – her climbing ax - safe and sound, or she’d kill him herself. Then there was the very first time she fired a gun at a walker, giving Molly a chance to evade an oncoming horde –

“You know her?” Daryl’s gruff tone was filled with skepticism. His voice wrenched Clementine back to the present, the surrounding air taut with strain. 

She twisted to Daryl. “I knew her at the beginning,” she replied. 

Daryl stabbed a finger towards Molly. “Ya don’t know nothin’ about her now. She tried ta _kill_ me, for chrissakes.”

“After you tried to kill me,” Molly added. Daryl scoffed and began to pace. 

Carol made eye contact, eyebrows furrowed. “That was a long time ago,” she told her. 

Clementine’s irritation mounted. “Don’t you think I know that?” she asked.

Clementine was conflicted – her heart wanted to trust her old friend, but she recognized they were right to be cautious. She looked to Violet, saw her features pulled tight with unease, arms folded across her chest. Clementine held her gaze with a silent question, and after a beat, Violet sighed and shrugged up a shoulder.

“They’re right, Clem,” she said, quietly. “We gotta make sure we can trust her.” Violet’s expression was apologetic. Deep down, Clementine knew it was the right thing to do. The fight left her, and she sighed, turning back to their captive.

Molly let out a full breath and shut her eyes. “I get it, okay?” she said. When she met Clementine’s gaze, she gave her a wan smile. “Ask me anything, just keep that asshole”- she nodded towards Daryl – “away from me.” 

Clementine glanced at Daryl and could feel the air vibrating around him, his entire body simmering with pent up agitation. Carol laid a hand on his arm, gave him a small nod. He glanced at everyone, his eyes shooting daggers at Molly, before snorting and stalking away. 

Violet joined Clementine in helping Molly into a more comfortable position. Clementine could sense Molly’s eyes on her, and when she looked, her expression was appraising.

“You’re all grown up,” she said, softly. Clementine gave her a smile, and she and Violet settled down for the conversation. Molly scanned the faces around her and her face fell. “Lee isn’t here,” she said, and something clenched tight in Clementine’s chest. She shook her head.

“He never left Savannah,” she said. 

Molly’s eyebrows furrowed, and she held Clementine’s eyes. 

“He was a good man,” Molly said. Clementine could merely nod. 

Carol crouched down, getting eye level with Molly. “Tell us what you’re doing here,” she said. 

Molly regarded Carol for some time before her expression hardened. She spoke, haltingly, and as her story unraveled, Clementine’s sympathies with her friend deepened. 

She had been on her own after Savannah. Getting by on scavenging and trading at a community, but constantly on the go. It reminded Clementine of the years she spent out on the road with A.J.

“I tried to avoid people, whenever I could,” Molly said. “And then I met Ellen and her daughter, Madelene.”

They had been circled by walkers and after Molly intervened, they travelled together for a time. Molly warmed up to the woman and the thirteen-year-old, and she agreed to help them get to Wellington. They ran into trouble in West Virginia. 

Molly’s voice broke when she recounted an altercation with an armed group. From the description, Clementine recognized them to be Delta. “They, ah,” Molly’s voice cracked, “wanted us to join their community – promised us food and shelter if we fought in their war. I told them to fuck off. And they did,” she said. 

“About a week later, I left camp to hunt. That’s how it was. They’d stay back and look after everything, and I’d hunt and scavenge.” Molly’s eyes were unfocused, face twisted with sorrow. “I got back and Ellen was-” Molly closed her eyes tight. Took a few deep breaths. When she opened them, Clementine’s heart ached at the grief shining in brown eyes. “She’d been tortured,” she said, “left to turn. Maddy was gone – taken. I…” and Molly’s voice faltered. She took a few trembling breaths and continued. “I promised Ellen I’d find her.”

Clementine’s skin prickled as she remembered Lee’s request to take his life and knew the pain Molly had been through; she wouldn’t have let her friend turn.

Molly tracked Delta to the elementary school and, after finding the bodies, made her way after their little group. 

“I didn’t know who you were – if you were survivors from the outpost, or the ones that took them down. I wanted to get a first look at you and that’s when mister charming”- she nodded in Daryl’s general direction – “got himself into trouble.” 

Daryl, perched close enough to be within earshot, scowled. Carol looked reflective, and Clementine met her eyes and gestured to Molly. Nodding, Carol shuffled close to the blonde and began untying her restraints. If Daryl had a problem with it, he kept it to himself. 

“Thanks,” Molly said, rubbing her wrists. Violet handed her a canteen, and she drank deeply. 

“We know where Delta is,” Clementine began, and Molly’s attention snapped to her. “That's actually where we're headed.” 

Clementine spoke in even tones, beginning with their fight at Ericson’s, to the cruelty of the police station, to Alexandria’s rescue. She didn’t falter even as she talked about Violet and Carol’s capture; her voice was steady despite her the pounding of her heart. When she finished, Molly’s expression was drawn, and aside from the crackle of the fires, there wasn’t a sound. 

Molly cleared her throat and met their eyes. “Let me help you,” she said. 

Clementine looked over at Daryl, noting that his energy seemed to have softened. Carol’s keen eyes seemed to sparkle, and she also turned her attention to Daryl. 

He fidgeted with his fingers, and he gave Molly another once over before shrugging up a shoulder and giving a non-committal grunt. 

Clementine caught the amusement in Carol’s eyes as she glanced at her watch. 

“It’s almost morning,” Carol said, meeting Molly’s gaze. “You must be hungry.”

****

While Daryl and Carol stoked the fires and started putting together a meal, Clementine got comfortable. She saw apprehension in the way Violet held herself. It was clear Carol and Daryl were hashing it out, but Violet seemed uncertain if she should join her by the pulpit. Clementine gestured for her to sit and was gratified when she settled down next to her. 

Something in Clementine’s chest caught when Violet held her gaze and smiled softly. All the brooding thoughts in her head wiped clean with the candid affection shining in her eyes, and she couldn’t keep her own smile from her lips.

When she shifted her attention to Molly, her eyes were alight with warmth, and Clementine felt her cheeks warm. 

“Molly, this is my girlfriend, Violet.” Molly inclined her head, and Violet offered her a small smile. 

They exchanged stories, each curious about how the other survived. It was the most Clementine ever shared about her past, and anxiety tightened her stomach. Molly must have picked up on her discomfort, because her questions were discreet. 

At some point, Violet reached out and clasped their hands together, a silent affirmation of support. Somehow, that firm hand soothed her psychological wounds in a way that hadn’t been possible before. 

Hearing about Molly’s journey gave her a sense of validation that she didn’t know she needed. Molly was here; she’d made it through all the fear and suffering this world forced her through and was right here. 

That meant that Clementine was real. She had made it, had come so far in a hostile and vicious world, and that thought gave her the belief that she could keep making it. It was enough to make her giddy; hope and certainty clashing with her pragmatic cynicism. 

Through these rapid-fire revelations of emotion, she held tight to Violet, her tapered fingers slotted alongside her own. She was more grounded than she had been in months. 

Clementine did gloss over some of her most painful memories by using the catch all ‘that group didn’t last.’ She still didn’t talk about Kenny and Jane, or that fateful crossroads in her life. Some memories were still too raw.

Breakfast was a subdued affair, the two friends having already caught each other up. Rosie took to Molly quickly, snuffling her gloved hand and settling by her feet. Dog lingered by Daryl’s side, the tracker committing to be aloof. _He really is a stubborn bastard_ , Clementine thought. 

As they packed up their things, Violet caught her eye, concern flashing across her features. “You okay?” she murmured. Clementine gave her a small smile before leaning in to give her a lingering kiss. When they parted, Violet’s expression softened, and she smiled. 

“I’m okay,” Clementine said. 

****

The snow was falling in light, feathery flakes and would have been beautiful to Clementine, if she wasn’t distracted by the route before them. It was slow going, and she worried they would have to stop one more time before Delta. Daryl was noncommittal when she asked him about it. 

The gear they found was invaluable. She was cold, but their extra layers kept them dry. 

“Hey, Clem?” 

Violet’s voice startled her; she was so lost in her own concerns. When she turned towards her girlfriend, she took in her furrowed eyebrows and the faraway look in her eyes. 

“Yeah?” she asked.

Violet chewed her lip and shifted her gaze to her feet. “What if Minnie and Sophie are there?” 

The thought hadn’t crossed Clementine’s mind, and she wondered what it would mean if they were still alive a year and a half later. She shivered when she considered the horrors they might have been subjected to.

Violet continued. “I mean, I guess I never really thought they’d still be alive, you know? It’s fucked up, but…” Violet’s voice trailed off and she huffed a weighty breath. Clementine saw the sadness in her eyes; her body was tense, and an uneasiness crackled around her slender frame like static. 

“Vi,” Clementine began, “You can’t blame yourself, okay?” Violet’s expression stiffened, and Clementine continued. “You didn’t make the deal with Delta - Marlon did.” 

Violet met her gaze and Clementine saw conflict raging in her eyes. After a moment’s consideration, Violet turned her gaze to the path ahead of them. 

“I’m, ah… just nervous, I guess. I feel like we should help them, but Minnie was… she, uh,” Violet licked her lips and wrapped her arms around her chest. “After she was gone, I realized just how much she fucked with my head. She... she never really cared about me.” 

Clementine’s heart plummeted to her stomach. The knowledge that the very person who should have been her strongest ally mistreated Violet incensed her. Heat rose to her cheeks and warmed her chest; her stomach churned. 

Clementine bit back her anger – it wouldn’t help ease Violet’s mind. Instead, she took a few deep breaths and considered her girlfriend’s perspective. 

"Well," she began, "what do you think we should do?" 

Violet huffed a heavy breath and shook her head. "I don't know, Clem. I just... I have these dreams. Nightmares, really." Violet hugged herself around her chest. "And she's one of them. Cruel and... violent. I feel like an asshole that I can picture that, but I'm also scared." 

Violet sighed, unfurling her arms. Her features were drawn and tired. Clementine saw her retreating into herself, and she reached out and fastened their hands together. 

“We'll talk to them,” Clementine offered. 

Violet’s eyes flitted to Clementine before settling back on the road. “Sure,” she muttered. 

Clementine held her gaze. In that moment she wanted to draw Violet in her arms and hold her and tell her everything would be okay. She knew that she could offer no such assurances. 

“We’ll figure it out,” she murmured. 

Violet chewed on her lip, but nodded. Clementine squeezed her hand and turned her attention back to the road. Unease creeped into her gut, and while she couldn’t pinpoint what caused it, her intuition nagged at her setting off alarm bells. She frowned, prodding at the feeling even as it eluded her grasp. 

Daryl insisted they were close. They were passing through a more industrial zone. Broken warehouses and abandoned cars created stark silhouettes against the snow. They passed by one warehouse that looked to be in decent condition, and Daryl confirmed it by telling them he and Aaron had used it as their base camp for observing Delta. 

There were more walkers to handle, each of them getting their blades or arrows painted in blood. The spatter of gore on the snow and the wake of mangled corpses mapped out their progress. 

Night was falling when they crested a ridge, and Clementine’s breath caught as she stared across the river at the Delta complex. 

Delta had transformed Harrisburg International Airport into a haven. The prohibitive ‘no trespassing ‘ fences of pre-apocalypse days now fortified with larger wooden construction, the river at the edge of the airstrip rounding out their security. Armed guards were stationed by a front gate leading to the tarmac. At least one of the grounded airplanes looked to be converted to living space, and the terminal closest to this part of the landing strip also had human activity. 

There were only a few people outside that Clementine could see, which she attributed to the weather. They seemed to have some mechanism for power; even as they watched, artificial light flicked on in several strategic zones. 

Clementine’s heart caught in her throat and she had a hard time drawing in a full breath. The enormity of their undertaking was catching up to her at the sight of the compound, and her emotions flitted around anxiety and exhilaration. Daryl and Carol muttered among themselves, and after a few moments, they led the way back towards the warehouse.

****

Clementine shivered and shifted closer to the fire, an enclave of light amid the yawning black warehouse around them. Sharp shadows flitted across the weary faces of her companions, and at once they reminded Clementine of her bone deep exhaustion. Daryl prepared dinner, and he spoke about what he and Aaron observed in low, clipped sentences. 

They had seen close to thirty soldiers, but while they staking it out, a hunting party had returned to the complex. It was difficult to know how many people were armed. They grew food inside the main terminal, and it also appeared that they used it for common space and training grounds. There were about two dozen civilians who tended to cooking, maintenance and gardening. Others were being trained into soldiers – a lot of them appeared young. 

“That airplane’s where the soldier’s stay. Seen ‘em coming and goin’ in shifts. Change guard twice a day, mornin’ and night. Seem to have plenty of firepower, but they’re comfortable. Don’t think anyone would try an’ take ‘em.” 

Carol nodded. “And it’s only those four on the wall?” she asked. Daryl nodded, chewing on his lip. “We’ll need a diversion,” Carol said. 

Violet haltingly spoke. “We have those traffic flares?” 

Daryl grunted. “Nah. Ain’t enough. That could get some of their attention, but the rest would be watchin’.”

Clementine’s stomach churned, and she racked her brain for something. They couldn’t come at them from the river – they would never get through the icy water. Even though it was still snowing, they couldn’t count on the weather to cover them. An idea was formulating, but she wasn’t sure how the Alexandrians would take it after their altercations with the Whisperers. 

Clementine turned to the group at large. “What if we use walkers to get in?” Daryl scoffed, but Carol’s eyes lit up while she considered. “I’m serious,” she went on. “Someone once sent a herd of walkers to save me. He showed me how to redirect them.” Clementine met all of their eyes. Violet’s eyebrows furrowed, but she didn’t object. 

“Daryl,” Carol said. “It could work.” 

Daryl’s agitation was palpable, but she could also see his mind whirling. Violet cleared her throat.

“What about the regular people?” she asked. Clementine frowned. “I mean, some of them might want to be with Delta, but most of them probably don’t.” Violet’s clear green eyes met Clementine’s. Guilt twisted up in her chest as she considered her words. Violet was right. 

“I’ll go first,” Carol said, drawing everyone’s attention to her. She shrugged. “A desperate survivor with no fighting skills. They’ll take me in and I can warn people, save whoever wants to be saved.” 

“Nah, ain’t happenin’,” Daryl growled. Carol’s eyes were soft when she met his. 

“Do you have any better ideas?” she asked. He scowled, but held his tongue. “The herd we saw – how far do you think it is?” she asked him. 

“One or two days walk,” he grumbled. 

Carol nodded. “That’s a good head start for me. Tomorrow, I’ll surrender myself to Delta, get an inside look and talk to the people there.”

Clementine turned to Molly, who was peering into the fire. “You’re a good climber,” Clementine said. “Think you can get up that wall?” 

Molly nodded. “Not a problem.”

“I can make the climb,” Violet said, glancing at Clementine. A vision of Violet climbing the crumbled debris of the staircase in the bell tower at Ericson’s flashed across her mind, and she grinned. 

“Daryl and I will find those walkers. Molly, you and Violet stay behind and when we’re back, use the diversion to get inside - get a head start finding the kids.” 

She looked around the fire. While there was a blend of thoughtfulness and apprehension on their features, everyone seemed on board. 

Clementine realized she was holding her breath and exhaled. They had a plan now, and that allayed her mounting uneasiness. Daryl ladled soup for everyone and then yanked a ratty notebook from his pack. He started drawing a map of the airport and labeling each of the structures. 

“If we’re doin’ this, we all need to know what we’re doin’.” 

They discussed details well into the evening, fleshing out the plan as thoroughly as they possible. Carol would use The Kingdom as her cover story – if Delta had come across the settlement, its barren avenues and derelict buildings would support her story of loss and desperation.

Once she was inside, she would ingratiate herself with the civilians living there. Daryl and Clementine would seek out the herd and lure them back with the traffic flares. They would cover themselves with walker guts and sneak into the compound while Delta was occupied with the herd. Meanwhile, Molly and Violet would scale their walls and seek out their people. Rendezvous was planned at the civilian terminal, where they would lead any and all survivors out. 

Clementine looked over the map until it was scorched into her brain. Once they got inside, they would have to make quick work of finding their people. 

Haltingly, she told them about Lilly. Delta’s founder was the leader of a group of survivors at a motel in Macon, back at the beginning. It was the first group Clementine had been a part of. Lilly was exiled from the group after she killed one of their own, which had been regarded a death sentence. She survived.

Lilly had a military background and was organized and stern, but the gaunt woman Clementine met in the woods outside Ericson’s so many years later was all hard edges and arrogance. They would need to be merciless if they happened across her. 

After going through the plan one last time, those who were sleeping tucked into their tents. Molly and Carol would split the watch shifts.

Clementine sighed as she settled in her tent next to Violet. While she desperately needed the rest, her mind was spinning over the minutiae of the next couple of days. 

Violet’s wiry body slotted alongside her own, interrupting her train of thought. She pulled her flush, and Violet pressed her face against the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply. 

0000000000

Something sparked in Clementine’s gut when Violet pressed tighter, and her voice, hitched and raspy, sent a shiver down her spine. “Touch me, Clementine.” Scarcely a breath against her ear, and Clementine’s eyes snapped shut as she bit back a moan. 

Her fingers sought Violet’s skin at the hem of her shirt, and despite the frigid air, her torso was on fire. There was urgency in the way lean muscle twitched and shifted under her hands. Clementine was filled with desperation to get closer, to subsume herself with Violet to keep them whole and safe in one skin. 

Violet’s lips found her own and all of her synapsis flickered and sparked. Her heart pounded in her ears as she unbuttoned Violet’s jeans and shimmied them down her thighs. Violet’s hands tugged at her own pants, and her body trembled with sensitivity at the first contact of skin on skin. Clementine’s hands sought to memorize all of Violet’s subtle curves, hands firm against hips and thighs, fingertips grazing over hot skin and the tight curls between her legs. 

It wasn’t long before they had brought each other to the edge; barely whispered words of encouragement stoked the fire deep in Clementine’s core. Their gasps softened into light exhales as they strove to keep quiet.

They came together, sighing against each other’s lips, and as Clementine opened her eyes to admire Violet’s featured twisted in release, panic, swift and acute, fractured her senses. The bursting release in her gut twisted into swooping dread, nausea gripped her throat and all at once, she couldn’t breathe. 

0000000000

Images flashed in her mind; terrible, violent images that made her blood run cold. She was stricken with the inevitability that something unnamable would happen to Violet, and that knowledge pressed into her chest and into her heart. 

Strong arms wrapped around her, drew her close. Soft murmurs of assurance and love sought to quell her fear. Clementine heard the swift rhythm in Violet’s chest and zeroed into that sound, even while she struggled against the vise of dread restricting her breathing. 

Violet murmured reassuring words, soothing words, while she held on tight. Seconds seemed like hours and Clementine was dizzy until she could draw a breath. When the oxygen hit her blood, guilt roiled in to take panic’s place, and a burning shame flushed her body anew. This was possibly the last time they would be in each other’s arms, and she tainted the experience by losing control. 

That’s when she noticed the break in Violet’s voice; her shallow breathing, the slight tremble in her body. Clementine shifted and pressed her lips against Violet’s, tasting the hot tears that flowed down her face. She kissed her gently and wiped at her cheeks with her thumb. They lay together, limbs tangled, finding solace with one another. After a time, when Violet’s breathing evened out and Clementine’s weariness muted her senses, she pressed her lips against her temple. 

“I can’t lose you,” Violet murmured. 

Clementine, chest tight, whispered, “I’ll always be yours.” 

They held each other tight until exhaustion overwhelmed them. 

****

They were packed and ready to go. The weather had kicked up, precipitation slanting down in driving sheets. Clementine wrapped herself in Violet’s embrace, breathing in her scent one last time before she left. The panic from the night before had abated into a disquieting murmur, but she feared it would assert itself the second she left Violet’s arms. 

Violet clutched her tighter. “It’ll be okay, Clem,” she said. Her voice cracked. “I love you.”

Clementine exhaled and pressed her face into the crook of Violet’s neck. “I love you so much,” she murmured. Violet pulled away and found her gaze, and Clementine lost herself in the swirling silvers of her eyes. They came together with a soft, lingering kiss and when they parted, Clementine swallowed thickly. 

Violet ran her thumb along her cheek and held her gaze. “You make it back safe, okay?”

Clementine reached in for as much bravado as she could find and smiled. “Damn right, I will.”

They kept close while Daryl and Carol said their goodbyes. Clementine had a pang of sympathy when she saw their lingering embrace. Not for the first time, she wondered if there was something more than friendship between them.

Carol gave one last squeeze to Daryl’s shoulder and turned towards Delta. He stood stock still, watching her until the heavy sleet swallowed her slight frame. When he shifted his attention to Clementine, she stiffened.

Molly stood a few feet away. She nodded to Clementine. “You be careful out there, kid,” she said.

Clementine embraced her. “You too, Molly.” 

They parted and Clementine crouched down to give Rosie some love. “Take care of them, huh, Rosie?” she murmured. The dog snuffled and whined. 

Clementine stood, secured her pack around her shoulders and joined Daryl by the door. Taking one last glance back, she forced herself to smile even as the sight of Violet twisted something in her heart. She turned and followed Daryl into the storm.


End file.
